So Rich a Price
by Kezhke
Summary: Post-"Endgame." On the 25th anniversary of Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, the crew remember their homecoming, and a few secrets are finally revealed. P/T, J/C, C/7, EMH/7, K/f.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a reposting - with extensive revisions - of a story that was up in January. I thank everyone who read that version, but it didn't go through my usual editing and revising process. As a result, I was unsatisfied. If you're rereading, some of the material is the same, though there are new scenes, edits to dialogue, and some points where you'll notice major overhaul._

_As always, thanks for reading._

**

* * *

So Rich a Price**

**By Kezhke**

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Viacom/Paramount/CBS, and I am just borrowing them for fun, not profit.

Synopsis: Set during two time periods, 2403 and 2378 (starting immediately post-"Endgame"). This story exists in the same universe as my previous story "Idle Gossip" and the "Ad Infinitum" trilogy, but you don't have to read those to read this. PG-13.

On the 25th anniversary of Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, a few secrets about the crew are finally revealed.

Pairings: P/T, J/C, C/7,* EMH/7, EMH/f, K/f, Miral Paris/m, and a lot of lower deck couplings. (*Very much not my idea; I'm trying to do the best I can with icky material.)

Notes: _Pathways_ and _Mosaic_, as well as the _Voyager_ relaunch series, are not canon, though you might find elements of them here.

Spoilers (really more like references): Caretaker, Parallax, The Cloud, Emanations, Faces, Learning Curve, Non Sequitur, Persistence of Vision, Tattoo, Resistance, Threshold, Dreadnought, Lifesigns, Investigations, Deadlock, Resolutions, Basics, Future's End, Warlord, Macrocosm, Fair Trade, Alter Ego, Coda, Blood Fever, Darkling, Real Life, Worst Case Scenario, Scorpion, Day of Honor, Revulsion, Scientific Method, Random Thoughts, Hunters, The Killing Game, Vis à Vis, Demon, Night, Extreme Risk, In the Flesh, Once Upon a Time, Nothing Human, Thirty Days, Latent Image, The Disease, Think Tank, Someone to Watch Over Me, Warhead, Equinox, Barge of the Dead, Tinker, Tenor, Doctor, Spy, Alice, Riddles, Pathfinder, Fair Haven, Memorial, Collective, Spirit Folk, Ashes to Ashes, The Good Shepherd, Muse, Life Line, Unimatrix Zero, Imperfection, Drive, Repression, Inside Man, Body and Soul, Nightingale, Flesh and Blood, Lineage, Prophecy, Workforce, Q2, Author, Author, Friendship One, Natural Law, Homestead, Endgame; The Measure of a Man (TNG), I, Borg (TNG), Descent (TNG), Lower Decks (TNG); Blaze of Glory (DS9), What You Leave Behind (DS9)

* * *

_"I do assure you there is no prince that loves his subjects better, or whose love can countervail our love. There is no jewel, be it of never so rich a price, which I set before this jewel: I mean your love. For I do esteem it more than any treasure or riches; for that we know how to prize, but love and thanks I count invaluable." - Elizabeth I of England, 1601_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

It was a clear night in San Francisco, and the tritanium hull of the starship Voyager reflected the distant starlight. In honor of the grand opening of the Museum of the Delta Quadrant, a red carpet stretched from Voyager's open shuttle bay, down a staircase, and across the grounds of the Presidio, where Lieutenants junior grade Miral Paris and Andrew Kim were making their way toward the ship.

Inside, in lieu of shuttlecraft, the bay was full of officers in dress uniforms, civilians in formal attire, waiters circling with trays of champagne, and a flurry of reporters waiting to ambush partygoers. As Miral and Andrew entered, several snapped pictures of them, leaving them feeling slightly dazed at the onslaught of attention.

"Munchkin!"

Tom Paris made his way across the crowded shuttle bay with champagne in hand. Miral burst into a smile when she saw him and hastily handed the small package she was carrying to Andrew. She gave her father a tight hug. "Congratulations, Dad."

"Happy birthday, munchkin," he said, returning the embrace. He turned to Andrew and greeted him with another bear hug.

"Where's Mom?" Miral asked.

"In the briefing room. Some reporter wanted to interview the liaison to the Klingon Empire on the Qo'noS dissident movement," Tom explained. "I'm supposed to come up with an excuse to interrupt them in precisely five more minutes."

Miral laughed. "It's good to see you, Dad." She rubbed the top of his head affectionately. "Starting to look a little like the Doctor up there."

"Hey," Tom warned, swatting her hand away. "Your mother thinks I look distinguished."

"Very distinguished," Andrew agreed. "Congratulations on the release of the Voyager holoprogram. I can't wait to see what you, the Doctor, and Reg have created."

"You're going to love it," Tom said enthusiastically. "More than two hundred chapters to choose from, multiple character perspective, culled from ship's logs and personal logs of forty crew members. Drew, you can even play your dad in an encounter with the Borg."

Andrew turned to Miral. "How about it? Let's go check it out."

"Don't you want to say hello to everyone first?"

"You'll have to wait in line to try the program," Tom warned. "The holodecks are running nonstop, but there's still a line down the corridor. You can take a tour of the ship while you wait. You should see the old mess hall. It's an exhibit of plants indigenous to the Delta Quadrant. The replicators have even been programmed to make leola root stew."

"Sounds delightful," Andrew said with a wry smile.

"Come on, Dad," Miral said cheerily, "you can be our tour guide."

Tom swallowed the last of his champagne. "Sorry, munchkin, I have to get your mother away from the reporters before she kills one of them – or me. Besides," he added with a grin, "I might give an interview of my own. Will you two be all right?"

Miral nodded. "We'll look around for Harry and Libby."

Tom nodded back, kissing his daughter on the temple and clapping his son-in-law on the shoulder. Then he moved off into the crowd.

"So this is Voyager, huh?" Andrew said, surveying the shuttle bay. "Twenty-five years later, and they're still talking about this ship."

"There you are!" The Doctor pushed slightly through the crowd toward them and foisted a small box into Miral's hands. "Happy birthday."

"Hi, Doc. You didn't need to get me a present." She took the top off the box and pulled out a pair of bejeweled earrings with a slight gasp. "Doctor, these are _beautiful_. Thank you."

The Doctor beamed slightly. "Elina assured me you would like them."

"Elina?" Andrew prompted.

"Elina Abramowicz." He gave a falsely modest smile. "We're seeing each other."

"You're dating Elina Abramowicz, the fashion designer?" Miral repeated with disbelief. "She brought back the asymmetrical hemline! You have to introduce me to her! Is she here?"

"She has a show in Milan, but she'll be here later. So, how long will you be on Earth?"

"My tour of duty with the Galileo is finished," Miral reported. Her eyes flickered to Andrew for a moment. "I'm on leave until my next assignment."

"Which is?" the Doctor prompted.

"Which is something we're still fighting about," Andrew admitted. He handed the Doctor the package he was holding. "Here. This is for you."

"I got that for you on Berengaria VII," Miral told the Doctor as he opened the box. He pulled out an isolinear chip and looked at her with slight confusion. "Not the chip, the research. Genomes for a hundred newly discovered species. I thought you'd like it."

The Doctor smiled. "I'll look forward to running a comparative study," he pledged, pocketing the chip.

Andrew scanned the shuttle bay as best as he could. "Doc, have you seen my parents?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's impossible to find anyone in this crowd."

"Why don't we get in line for the holodeck?" Miral suggested. "By the time we're done, maybe the crowd will have thinned out, and it'll be easier to find everyone we want to talk to."

Andrew nodded. "Coming with us, Doc?"

"As one of the co-creators of the program, I'm not particularly interested in running it again," he said honestly. "But I will stand in line with you. Maybe I can tell you a few things that weren't included."

Miral and Andrew's interest was piqued. "Like what?"

"Like what really happened when Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant." He looked at Miral. "You know, it all started with your birth."

"Which my father missed," she added with a slight eye roll. "Which we've heard about a hundred times. You know, I think that's the reason my mother didn't tell him she was in labor with L'Naan until they were alone – just so he'd end up having to deliver the baby."

"That sounds like your mother," Andrew observed.

"Well, say what you will about your dramatic entrance into the world," the Doctor continued, "but I believe I said that was just the _start_ of the story, not the story itself."

Andrew and Miral exchanged a look. "All right, Doctor," Andrew said resignedly, putting his hands on his hips, "we'll bite. Tell us the story."

* * *

**USS Voyager, 2378**

"Lay in a course…for home."

Captain Kathryn Janeway had given that order more times than she could remember since the start of their misbegotten odyssey through the Delta Quadrant, but this was the first time that she could see that home on the viewscreen. She was glad Chakotay was in charge of flying the ship; she wasn't sure she could have managed it.

She paced the bridge as Earth grew larger on the viewscreen, taking a good look at the officers still on duty. At ops Harry Kim was blinking back tears. Janeway wasn't sure if it was out of relief or sadness – or perhaps he was just overwhelmed with the suddenness of it all. She directed a small smile toward him and hastily wiped a tear from the corner of her own eye.

* * *

Tom Paris was sprinting down the corridor toward Sick Bay. He hadn't heard a word the Doctor had said when he called the bridge a minute earlier. He only heard the sound of a baby in the background.

The doors to Sick Bay parted, and he rushed inside, making it only a few steps before stopping cold in his tracks.

B'Elanna Torres was sitting up in bed with no trace of fatigue after having given birth. And in her arms was something small and squirming, wrapped in a standard-issue Starfleet blanket. B'Elanna was staring down at the bundle, unaware that he'd entered, with an expression of naked wonder on her face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said softly. He put a hand on Tom's shoulder and guided him closer to the biobed. B'Elanna looked up at them and smiled, sniffing a little. The Doctor carefully pulled back the blanket so that Tom could see the baby's face.

In that second Tom Paris's entire world changed.

He saw two closed eyes, a tiny mouth, and faint ridges on the child's forehead that he started to count, to commit to memory. A little fuzz of brown hair topped the child's head. Suddenly a hand emerged from the blanket, and Tom saw tiny fingers, clenched into a miniscule fist, topped with infinitesimally small fingernails. As the baby made a slight gurgling sound, Tom felt a stirring in his heart. He smiled and realized that for the second time in his life, he had just fallen in love.

* * *

Meanwhile, the baby's grandfather, still ignorant of her birth, was busy talking to Captain Janeway. Admiral Owen Paris had been surprised by Voyager's dramatic reemergence into Sector 001 after seven years lost in the Delta Quadrant, but he was quick to coordinate efforts with McKinley Station to ensure the ship was properly settled into spacedock before disembarkation and systems shutdowns began.

"We'll give everyone two weeks to readjust to the Alpha Quadrant," Admiral Paris explained from Janeway's computer. "You'll be in quarantine on Mariana Two in the Pacific Ocean. There's an old science outpost there that's no longer in use, so you'll have reasonable living quarters and plenty of recreational activities. We'll also have a medical team give everyone a complete physical and psychiatric evaluation."

Janeway interrupted then, as one of the reasons why they'd gotten home at this particular moment was still weighing on her mind. "Admiral, my tactical officer is need of serious medical care. Can you ensure that there's a Vulcan neurology expert on the island?"

Admiral Paris nodded. "Of course. I'll make a note of it. Send me a list of any other special needs your crew has. It's probably a good idea to send us instructions on installing the Borg regeneration alcoves, too. I doubt anyone in the Fleet has had as much experience with them as you have." He took a breath before continuing. "For security reasons you won't have access to anything other than communications devices and food replicators. In the meantime, we'll be doing a complete inventory of your cargo and technology and analyzing your logs. Once your sojourn is concluded, hopefully we'll have all the information we need from the ship, and we'll begin the debriefing process."

"Two weeks on a tropical island?" she heard herself saying aloud. "Sounds like quite a nice quarantine."

But Admiral Paris was serious. "It's going to be quite an adjustment, Captain, and we know that. For now please have your crew transfer all of their personal effects to your cargo bay, except what they'll need on Mariana Two. You can begin transport tomorrow morning at 0800. Remain in spacedock until then. And, Captain, obviously, for security reasons, you'll have to go dark tonight."

"Admiral, surely you can't ask the crew not to get in touch with their families…"

"I know they're eager to speak with their loved ones," he said honestly. He didn't say anything in particular about Tom, but Janeway understood from his expression that he, too, was eager to talk to his son. "We'll contact everyone's families for them, and once you're on Mariana Two, you'll be able to communicate freely with anyone you like."

Janeway sighed. The captain in her understood the reasoning behind the orders, but part of her acknowledged that they were disappointing orders nonetheless. After all, she herself had been looking forward to speaking to her mother and sister as soon as possible. "Admiral Paris, I do have one other _special_ crew member to discuss with you. Our emergency medical hologram –"

"Ah, yes, the Doctor." Admiral Paris frowned. "I know he's become quite a valued member of your crew, Captain, but his program has accumulated a wealth of information during your voyage. We'll have to download him."

"He's a valued member of this crew who has developed relationships with the others on board. Isn't it possible for him to remain with us on Mariana Two? We'll all miss his company."

Admiral Paris shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. We can't take the chance that someone will alter his programming while you're in quarantine. He'll have to remain on board until we can download his altered programming for study."

Janeway would lose the battle but the not the war. "May I at least leave instructions on how to handle his new subroutines so that your crew doesn't damage him? I will be filing a petition for a hearing on his status as a citizen, and I don't want to risk harming him. Maybe Reg Barclay could oversee him?"

"All right, Captain," Paris conceded with a smile. "Have your engineers send my assistant Nicole instructions. We'll take good care of him. In the meantime, enjoy your last few hours on your ship." He leaned forward a little conspiratorially and winked at her. "They just may be your last few hours as captain."

Janeway clicked the monitor off, and it went dark. Although the promise of shore leave on Mariana Two would lift spirits, she suspected the communications blackout for the evening and the uncertainty of the weeks to come would weigh heavily on the minds of her officers that night. She knew she needed to think of a solution.

* * *

Ensign Samantha Wildman stepped inside her quarters with a slight spring in her step. She'd been called away from her daughter Naomi a number of times to man her duty station while Voyager attempted a return home, but this time they'd actually made it. "Naomi?" she called. "Icheb?"

The subjects in question were sitting at the dining table in silence. "We did it. We made it home," she informed them. "Icheb, thanks for staying with her."

"Are we in spacedock?" Naomi asked with evident disappointment. Samantha nodded. "What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know," her mother answered honestly. "Captain Janeway is still talking with Starfleet Command." She looked at Icheb. "Seven wants you back in the cargo bay."

He nodded dutifully. "She will need my assistance assembling our research." He rose and started for the door.

"Icheb!" Naomi cried out reflexively. As he turned back around, she closed her mouth and looked faintly embarrassed.

"He's not going anywhere," her mother tried to assure her. "You'll see him later."

"I'll call you on the com once I finish my work," Icheb promised. He turned to the door, and Samantha couldn't help noticing that Naomi's face fell a little as he exited.

"What's going to happen?" Naomi repeated.

"I'll probably be debriefed by Starfleet, and then I'll receive a new assignment."

"And my father?"

"You'll get to meet him, and we'll all decide where we want to live." Part of Samantha could understand Naomi's apprehension; she had been born on Voyager, after all, and was being asked to forfeit her home so the other crew members could return to theirs. She was also about to face the mythical father she'd never met. They had pictures of Greskrendtgrek in their quarters, and they'd spoken with him on the live com link and exchanged letters in the monthly datastream. But living with someone was different; Samantha was equally nervous about that aspect of their homecoming.

"What's it going to be like living with him?" Naomi asked.

Samantha placed her hand over her daugther's and squeezed it for support. "There are some things I need to take care of in the science lab," she said, avoiding the question. "Why don't you start packing your room?"

* * *

Janeway returned to the bridge, where her officers were sitting idly at their stations, hands in laps, awaiting instructions. She quickly gave Tuvok orders to take the necessary systems offline. Then she looked at Chakotay, who had returned to the first officer's chair. It was a moment they had mentally prepared for seven years, and now she felt as if she were floundering. "I guess I should make an announcement," she said feebly. He nodded in support and stabbed a button on the console between their seats.

"Attention all hands," she began, hands on hips, looking around the still-life bridge. "We have been ordered to maintain a communications blackout. I know that you are eager to contact your loved ones, but you will have to wait. Starfleet has promised to notify your families of your return." She did not add here the part about Starfleet first notifying the families of those who had not lived to return with them. "Please prepare all your personal effects. Commander Chakotay will soon contact you with the details for returning them to the surface. All hands will report to the cargo bays at 0800 for transport." The announcement was perfunctory, not at all the heartfelt welcome-home message she had hoped would inspire them. She took a breath and tried again. "I know that some of you are eager to return to your friends and families and lives in the Alpha Quadrant, and some of you are frightened by what that possibility may bring. We will stand together for the next two weeks in quarantine, after which we will stand together through our debriefings. You have been a fine crew, and I'm happy to have served with you. Our return to the Alpha Quadrant is the result of your hard work and dedication. I will do my best to ensure that whatever your desired future is, you get it." She nodded at Chakotay, who ended her shipwide announcement.

"Let's assemble the senior officers," she suggested.

* * *

In main engineering the warp core had been powered down, leaving the room without its familiar blue glow or incessant hum. Lieutenant Susan Nicoletti stood with her arms crossed over her chest at the warp diagnostic panel, its interface deactivated. She sighed and looked around the room, where a few engineers were powering down various secondary systems. The rest were standing still like her, unsure how to best be of service without their chief there to give them orders.

"Lieutenant Carey would have appreciated this moment," Ensign Vorik said as he came up beside Nicoletti.

Nicoletti turned to the young Vulcan, surprised by his sentimentality. Joe Carey, who had a wife and two children, had longed for their return to Earth more than any of them. Sadly, he had died only a few months earlier.

"Vorik, we'll make a human of you yet," said Crewman Ken Dalby as he approached. He turned to Nicoletti. "No one really knows what we're supposed to be doing."

"Lieutenant Torres would not approve of us being unproductive," Vorik reminded them both.

"I know," Nicoletti said, "but I think it's okay for us to take a minute to absorb what's happened."

"The former Maquis are doing a little more than that," Dalby warned. "Some of us are convinced we're going to be arrested tonight."

"No one's going to be arrested," Nicoletti said firmly. "Captain Janeway has already talked to Starfleet Command about your situation several times."

"And do you know just what was said in those conversations?" Dalby challenged.

"Well, no, but…but you know the captain. She won't let anything happen to you. Neither will B'Elanna and Chakotay." Nicoletti sighed. "Vorik's right. If B'Elanna were still on duty, she'd be barking orders at us right now. I think the best thing we can all do is stop worrying about what's going to happen and just focus on getting the ship spic and span."

* * *

As the senior officers filed into the briefing room for the last time, Janeway took careful note of their expressions. Harry Kim was beaming, unable to control his boyish enthusiasm. That made sense to Janeway; the future could only offer him happiness – and hopefully the promotion to lieutenant he so deserved. Tuvok followed, his face blank as always. Tom and the Doctor came next, and Janeway suspected Tom's excitement at having just become a father was tinged with concern at what would happen to his newly formed family. He and B'Elanna were going to have a tough time adjusting, Janeway knew. The Doctor took a seat opposite Chakotay rather quietly. Chakotay sat alone, looking somber. Their return no doubt left him with infinite questions and mixed emotions. Seven of Nine entered the room last. She seemed as cool as Tuvok, though Janeway suspected that being thrust into the midst of humans meant charting unknown worlds for her, perhaps frightening ones at that. She noticed Chakotay's contemplative mood perk as Seven took a seat beside him, and she felt an unexpected surge of butterflies in her stomach that she tried to dismiss.

Rather quickly she explained their orders from Starfleet Command, and Chakotay assigned each senior officer various tasks to shut down the ship and prepare the crew for departure.

"I need final reports from each of your departments in two hours," Janeway reminded them when he had finished. "I know it's a short deadline, but we have one more piece of business that I want to attend to this evening, and I'll need each of you to be able to focus completely on it."

Several of them looked at each other, unsure of what else there could be to do.

"Mr. Kim," she said with a crooked smile, "how well have you studied Mr. Paris over the last seven years?"

Harry looked at Tom with confusion. "Uh, Captain…?"

"I'm delegating the last assignment to you, and I expect you to outdo your predecessor." She paused for effect, enjoying the fact that none of them could anticipate her next words. "Harry, I am ordering you to throw a party the likes of which this ship – this quadrant – has never seen, and I want it to happen by 2000 and extend until the last crew member is standing. Is that understood?"

Harry's face broke into a grin. "Yes, ma'am," he said emphatically, unconsciously channeling Tom.

"Dismissed."

* * *

"Doctor, you are behaving irrationally," Seven of Nine said calmly, head tilted slightly to the side, hands clasped behind her back as the Doctor paced the floor of Sick Bay.

"Seven, we have catalogued over forty thousand species of flora and fauna, and I have to prepare cell samples, identification records, treatment protocols for new diseases, crew records, a complete inventory of equipment –"

"Doctor, we will finish the work if you will simply calm down and tell me how to proceed."

The Doctor huffed a little. "I don't even know if anyone but you will take an order from me anymore!"

"You are concerned that you will be deactivated?"

"Yes!" The Doctor stormed into his office, leaving Seven in the middle of the exam room.

"Captain Janeway has assured the crew that she will support them in their personal goals," Seven noted. "We can assume that includes you."

The Doctor poked his head around the office doorway. "Captain Janeway is no longer the highest ranking Starfleet officer around."

"That is correct. However, I have witnessed Captain Janeway's maternal devotion to certain members of this crew. I do not expect that she will tolerate anyone interfering with your autonomy."

"Seven," he said, emerging with a hypospray clutched defensively in one hand, "are you saying Captain Janeway is my mommy?"

* * *

"You're pretty excited about the last order from the captain, aren't you?" Tom asked as he and Harry headed toward Sick Bay.

"Hey, it's my niece's birthday. I'm going to make this the best party we've ever had on this ship." Harry grinned. "You heard the captain. My orders are to outdo you."

"Tall orders."

"Are you and B'Elanna going to bring the baby?"

"Only if the buffet features strained carrots and mashed peas."

"Funny, Tom. I think that's why the captain put _me_ in charge."

They both chuckled lightly as the doors to Sick Bay parted. They entered the room, seeing Seven of Nine standing in the middle of it with her hands clasped behind her back. In the surgical bay the Doctor hastily scanned B'Elanna with a tricorder before dropping the device carelessly on a supply cart and moving toward Seven, whom he paced around in circles. Harry looked inquisitively at Seven, and she explained simply, "I believe he is panicking."

Tom and Harry shook off the Doctor's behavior, turning their energies toward the surgical bay. Harry tried to hang back, to give his friends a private moment together, but Tom put an arm around his shoulders and led him to the biobed. "Harry," he said, his voice full of pride, "meet your new niece, Miral Torres Paris."

"She's beautiful," he said, directing a sweet smile at B'Elanna. "Congratulations."

"Do you want to hold her?" she asked. His eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded. She passed the baby to him, and as he took her into his arms, Harry's smile grew. He began talking quietly to the baby, forgetting his friends were even present.

"What's going on with the Doc?" Tom asked B'Elanna as he perched on the edge of the biobed next to her.

She shrugged. "He thinks Starfleet is going to decompile his program."

"When can you leave?"

"Oh, trust me," she said, her eyes drifting toward the Doctor and Seven, "I'm ready now."

But the Doctor overheard, and, forgetting his panic, called across the room, "Four more hours, Lieutenant. You have to stay through a feeding." Then, professional cool abandoned, he resumed his self-obsession, followed into his office by the ever-patient Seven of Nine.

Harry began to feel that he was intruding. "I'd better get back to work," he said, handing Miral back to Tom. "If I don't see you tonight, well, congratulations."

As he left, B'Elanna turned to Tom for an explanation. "Captain Janeway wants us to have final reports ready in two hours, and then she ordered Harry to throw a big party for everyone at 2000."

B'Elanna smiled. "I can get my engineering report done from here, if the Doctor will let me access his console."

"No way," Tom said firmly but good-naturedly. "You need to rest. Tell me who you trust to do it, and I'll make sure it happens." Before she could protest, he added, "You can review it before it gets turned in."

"Tom, I can write a report. I'm not an invalid." She ran a finger across Miral's feather-soft cheek. "She's got your eyes."

"And your nose," he added softly. But then he looked at her seriously. "You just had a baby. There's no way the captain and Chakotay are going to let you go back to work. I'm sure that if the Doctor is finished with her, Seven could –"

"Vorik," she interrupted.

Tom knew he could goad her into cooperating with the threat of Seven taking over her department, but he was surprised at her choice of replacement. Vorik wasn't the second in command in engineering, nor was he necessarily one of her best engineers. He was also someone with whom B'Elanna had a rocky personal relationship – thanks to his interest in her when he was undergoing the _pon farr_ and his unending talent for getting on her nerves.

"He's meticulous," she explained. "He'll get every detail. He also studies me, and he'll do it the way he thinks I would do it."

Tom nodded. "Okay, I'll tell Chakotay." He placed Miral into the nearby baby bed. "Harry's pretty excited about his new job as morale officer."

Seeing that the baby was resting safely and with the weight of her duties off her shoulders, B'Elanna suddenly felt very tired indeed – although she wouldn't admit it to Tom or the Doctor. She let herself lie down on the bed. "That was a pretty smart move on the captain's part. Seven told me about the communications blackout. Harry needs something to distract him from the fact that he can't talk to his family." She turned her head toward Tom. "Speaking of family, you haven't heard from your father yet, have you?"

Tom shook his head. "The captain talked to him, but she wanted to let us tell him about Miral. He doesn't even know she was born."

"Tom, if you want to go to that party…"

He shook his head again. "I'm not leaving you and Miral."

B'Elanna reached out for his hand as she let her eyes close. "It's your last night on Voyager."

"Forget it. I'm not leaving your side."

"Fine," she mumbled sleepily. "Then I guess we'll all have to go."

* * *

The doors to the cargo bay rolled open noisily, and Seven's heels clicked on the floor as she crossed to the computer console where Icheb was working. She came up beside him slowly.

"How are you doing?"

"I've prepared most of my research," Icheb answered in that slightly flat voice of his. "I should be finished in another twenty minutes."

"Good," Seven said, with a slight purse of her lips. "However, my question was of a personal nature. I'm aware that this may be an adjustment for you."

"What about you?" Icheb wondered.

Seven tipped her head slightly to one side. "I suppose I am experiencing some apprehension."

"So am I." He stopped working and turned to her. "Seven, we don't have any family here. Where are we going to go? What are we going to do?"

"You will enter Starfleet Academy and thrive," she told him simply.

"And you?"

She shrugged off the question. "Captain Janeway has promised to take me to see her hometown. She will help me find suitable work."

Icheb had often heard the other crew members talk about their attachment to their families, and he was beginning to understand that he had that kind of attachment to Seven. "I don't want to be separated from you," he admitted.

"Then you won't be," she answered simply with a nod. He nodded back, understanding that the conversation was over. "There are three hours remaining until the party on the holodeck. I suggest we work together to finish the report on the salvaged Borg components. It will be a more efficient use of our time."

* * *

"Come in," the raspy voice called with some distress.

Janeway entered the darkened quarters, which she had heard Tom nickname "the Vulcan vault." Tuvok was sitting on the floor by his meditation lamp, his eyes closed and hands clasped together with forefingers outstretched. "How are you feeling, Tuvok?"

He did not move from his position but answered, "I am reassured that my condition will soon be treated."

Janeway knelt down beside him. "I'm sorry you have to wait until tomorrow. Starfleet needs time to set up the additional transporter biofilters and quarantine facilities. They think we might be bringing back something noxious from the Delta Quadrant."

"More noxious than Mr. Neelix's foodstuffs?"

Janeway looked at him in surprise, trying to gauge whether or not he was joking. "I'd like you to consider making an appearance at the party tonight."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow but did not open his eyes. "Captain, we have had this conversation on prior occasions."

"We've never been home before," Janeway argued, "and your security crew never needed a chance to say good-bye to you."

"We will be living together in quarantine for two weeks."

Janeway put a hand on Tuvok's arm, disrupting his concentration. He opened his eyes. "I know I've pushed you into a lot of things over the years, Tuvok, and I guess I'm asking for one more favor. It would mean a lot to me if the entire crew were there tonight – including my tactical officer, and friend."

"Will you excuse me, Captain?" Tuvok asked dispassionately. He resumed his meditative posture, and Janeway rose, feeling she had failed in her mission. But as she walked to the door, he added, "I would like to finish my meditation prior to 2000."

Janeway smiled as she exited his quarters.

* * *

"Chell?" Samantha Wildman asked with concern as she entered the mess hall. She found the Bolian standing behind the service counter, gathering up utensils and looking awfully calm for someone who had summoned her away from her duties for an emergency. "You said it was urgent?"

Chell nodded awkwardly with a blue finger to his lips. "I was wondering if you could offer some suggestions about various appetizers that could be served tonight on the holodeck," he said, gesturing slightly over his shoulder. Samantha leaned over the counter and saw Naomi crouched in the back corner of the galley, clutching her Flotter doll. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone she was here," Chell whispered.

"It's okay," Samantha reassured him, heading toward her daughter. The presence of the Flotter doll was telling. Naomi hadn't played with it in some time, claiming it was too babyish. Samantha squatted down next to her. "Naomi?"

Her daughter looked up with wide eyes. "I don't want to leave Voyager," she pouted.

Samantha frowned. "I know you don't, but we don't really have a choice." She settled beside her daughter more comfortably. "This is how life in Starfleet works. Missions end, and then officers have to prepare for new ones."

"Do we have to go to Ktaris?"

"Not if we don't want to."

"Will I still get to see Icheb and Seven?"

"Well, that depends upon where we go and where they go," Samantha said honestly. "But you can talk on subspace, and we can arrange to take vacations with them. You don't have to lose your friends just because you don't live on the same ship with them."

Naomi seemed slightly mollified. "I'm scared about seeing my father," she admitted after a moment.

"So am I."

This new revelation changed Naomi's perspective slightly. "Really?"

Samantha nodded. "But I have to remind myself that I'm a Starfleet officer, and that I can handle anything." She stroked her daughter's long red hair for a moment. "Captain Janeway has given everyone on board one final order."

"What is it?"

"We're supposed to be at a party that Ensign Kim is organizing at 2000. You don't want to disobey a direct order, do you?"

Naomi's eyes widened. "A party?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

"I'll bet Naomi Wildman was an adorable child," Miral Paris said with a laugh. "I can just imagine her with a Flotter doll."

"Did you ever play Flotter programs?" Andrew Kim asked her with some interest.

"God, no. I think your dad tried to introduce me to Flotter when I was five, but I called him a _petaQ_. Flotter," she quickly amended, "not your dad."

Andrew smiled, imagining Miral as a toddler spitting Klingon invectives. "Well, I loved Flotter."

"Of course you did."

"I hope you're not spilling embarrassing secrets, Doc," Tom Paris said as he approached with his wife.

"Hi, Andrew," B'Elanna Torres greeted her son-in-law with an affectionate rub on the back. She turned to her daughter, embracing her firmly. "Happy birthday. I've missed you." She scrutinized her appearance for a moment, pulling Miral's elbow slightly so she would turn around. "I really like that hairstyle. I wish I could cut mine in layers like that." She touched her own shoulder-length silver mane. "You lucked out, I guess. You got your father's silky hair."

Miral pulled up the centimeter-long nap on the side of her father's head between her knuckles. "How can you tell if it's silky or not? He keeps it so short."

"Ow!" her father protested, rubbing his head.

Miral turned her attention to Andrew's luxuriously thick black hair, identical to Harry's when he was younger. "Now _this_ is silky," she purred, running a hand through it. Unlike Tom, Andrew did not pull away, but he did carefully smooth his hair back into place once she was finished.

"Are we going to stand here all night discussing hair?" the Doctor asked a little touchily.

"What's the matter, Doctor? Feeling left out?" B'Elanna teased. He scowled in return. "You know, you could have programmed hair any time you wanted. Your physical parameters weren't set in stone. We've changed them before. I'm sure if you ask Reg, he could –"

"I'm a little too old for hair _now_, B'Elanna," he reminded her. "I've been active for thirty-two years, after all."

Sensing a shift in mood, Andrew decided to interrupt. "Doc was just getting ready to tell us about the big party on the holodeck the night Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant. I'm guessing you and Tom didn't attend, with the new baby."

"Are you kidding?" Tom said. "You couldn't keep us away."

"Wait, wait," Miral interrupted, "what kind of parents are you? You took me to a party the day I was born?"

"Not that you noticed," her mother informed her. "I was worried about the loud music and flashing lights, but you slept right through it."

"Loud music and flashing lights?" Andrew repeated. "What kind of party was it?"

"Andrew," Tom said amiably, "it was single-handedly the coolest thing your father has ever done."

* * *

**USS Voyager, Docked at McKinley Station, 2378**

Since the time he left Tom and B'Elanna in Sick Bay, Harry had been hard at work programming something special for the Voyager crew. No one had heard a word from him, except a quick request that Chell come up with some snacks and drinks – and now that they were securely docked at McKinley Station, they had plenty of energy to replicate a veritable feast. When Chell had arrived with a pushcart of covered dishes at 1945, a few curious crew members saw him enter the holodeck, only to have the doors sealed behind him.

Harry had decided not to use a program already in existence for their last party. Sandrine's and Fair Haven would make the crew too nostalgic and could not provide the celebratory mood he was looking for. The Paxau Resort was a nice program, and they'd had a lot of fun at Neelix's luaus, but the program would no doubt make too many people miss Neelix, thus sobering the mood of the party.

And so Harry opted for a program of a place that would uplift the crew – a place that reminded them of all the good times they'd had together, a place that was sometimes full of pain and danger but that always saw them through – Voyager itself.

At 1900, when the doors to the holodeck unlocked, Voyager's crew stepped into a room that was blaring with heavy percussive music. Holographic waiters and waitresses swirled around, serving colorful concoctions. (A careful observer would notice that several waitresses were the volleyball players that Harry had once put into the Paxau program.) In the middle of the room was a shaft of blue light, pulsing in time with the music, with a ledge for drinks wrapped around it, and most of the room was an open dance floor with thermal-reactive sensors that changed color as dancers moved around. Several staffed bars lined the walls in case the waitresses didn't serve quickly enough. A veil of artificial smoke clouded the entire place, leaving a mysterious, colorful, loud environment to greet the crew.

"Welcome to Warp Drive," Harry declared.

"What is this?" B'Elanna asked as he slipped a glowing necklace over her head. She looked down at Miral and was pleased to notice that the child was unfazed. _Well, she is part Klingon. She probably prefers the noise here to the quiet of Sick Bay. _ She wondered, though, if this was the best way to round out Miral's first day of life.

"It's a discotheque," Tom explained. Harry seemed to appreciate that he understood the concept.

"It's great is what it is!" Crewman Tal Celes shouted as she entered the holodeck behind them. As Harry put a glowing necklace around her as well, she pointed to the upper level. "Ensign Kim, are those Kazon dancing in cages?"

Soon a large number of the crew had arrived. They were sharing dance moves from their different cultures and laughing and shouting over the music. Chell was dancing with Naomi, twirling her in circles. The Delaney sisters were dancing with each other while Ensigns Rollins and Culhane eyed them lustily.

And, in the middle of the dance floor, the host was by himself. He threw his head back, laughing wildly and moving his arms in time with the music. "This is great!" he yelled to no one in particular.

At 2030 the doors to the holodeck opened, and Tuvok entered. From the table where he and B'Elanna were sitting, Tom rose, ready to tease him for his tardiness, but Tuvok, anticipating his crewmate's behavior, explained preemptively, "Suffice it to say, Mr. Paris, I have never disobeyed Captain Janeway and was not about to start on our first night in the Alpha Quadrant."

Tom smiled. "Glad you came. The captain's over there, if you want to talk to her."

Tuvok moved in the direction Tom was pointing, where the captain was hovering at the bar. She thought the glowing necklace Harry had placed around her neck was mocking her. She was glad the crew were enjoying themselves – Harry really had done a great job – but she somehow wasn't feeling in the spirit of things.

"You do not seem to be enjoying yourself," Tuvok observed as he came up beside her.

"I know," she admitted. "But I don't know why. Would you like something to drink?" Tuvok nodded, and Janeway summoned the bartender. He served them two of the blue concoctions Chell had prepared. Janeway immediately raised her glass and took a drink. Tuvok sniffed his tentatively and then settled for holding it in his hand, giving the illusion of participating in the festivities. He knew that would gratify the captain.

About twenty minutes later, Seven of Nine and Chakotay entered the holodeck together. A few heads turned in their direction, though most were too absorbed in the music to pay attention. Across the room, though, Captain Janeway noticed and unconsciously took another large swallow of her drink. Tuvok observed the captain's reaction but didn't comment.

The party continued for two more hours until the intensity of the music and lights began to wear a bit thin. A number of people had stopped by Tom and B'Elanna's table to see the baby, only to have to yell their well-wishes over the music. Miral, fortunately, had slept through most of the party, but even she was beginning to get a little fussy. Tom excused himself from B'Elanna and went to talk to Harry about how to anticipate "mood swings." A moment later, Harry summoned the holodeck arch; then the music changed tempo to something slower, and the "warp core" changed from a fast blue pulse to a gentle bluish-white swirl, more like Voyager's actual warp core.

"What's happening?" B'Elanna asked when Tom and Harry came back to the table.

"A slow dance," Tom explained, holding out his hand. "Join me?"

"The baby?"

"Harry," Tom said soberly, "you are going to be the first person we trust to baby-sit our daughter." He took Miral from B'Elanna and placed her in Harry's arms. "If anything happens to her, I will kill you."

Harry didn't doubt his friend's sincerity; he knew the privilege being bestowed upon him. As Tom led B'Elanna to the dance floor, he rocked Miral gently to the music. "Hi, baby girl," he whispered, smiling down at her. She was, it turned out, a great slow dance partner.

B'Elanna looked awkward on the dance floor until Tom confidently, artfully slid one arm around her waist and took one of her hands in his. "Just follow me," he said quietly in her ear. B'Elanna let her body sway with the music, mimicking Tom, and she found the feeling of the "slow dance" not altogether unpleasant. She relaxed a little and leaned her head on Tom's shoulder, and he took the opportunity to pull her even closer, with both arms wrapped tightly around her frame. He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes.

Across the room, Chakotay saw them and nudged the captain. Janeway smiled in return. He then began to point out other couples to her, some of whom were just dancing for fun and some erotically. A few looked as though they were falling in love, but most, he thought, looked like they were dreaming of creative ways to remember their last night on the ship. He made a mental note to keep Janeway out of the turbolifts and Jeffries tubes after the party.

As they gazed out across the dance floor, Seven slowly made her way over to them with a small smile on her face. Chakotay set his drink on the bar and murmured a polite, "Excuse me," to the captain. He crossed the remaining few steps to Seven with his own smile. "Would you like to dance?"

"I should warn you," Seven said quietly as she wrapped an arm around his neck. "I have not had much success with the art of dancing."

"I promise you my shoulder can handle a little more than Chapman's," Chakotay said good-naturedly.

Janeway turned back to the bar, focusing her efforts on the drink in front of her. She supposed it was the inevitable consequence of everything she had wanted Seven to achieve, and she supposed she was happy for them. Still, Chakotay had always been her standing date at these kinds of functions, and it was strange not to have him at her side on their last night together.

"May I have this dance?"

Janeway turned to see the Doctor standing with one hand extended out to her. She shook her head with a smile. "Doctor, what are you doing?"

"I have excellent dancing subroutines," he bragged, "and I believe the protocol is to dance with one's friends at a party."

Janeway reluctantly put her hand in his, and they crossed to the dance floor. She felt a million eyes on them, but she knew it was out of curiosity, rather than virulent gossip. She gracefully placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, and as his hand came to her waist, she noticed that he did, indeed, have excellent dancing subroutines.

On the other side of the room, Tal Celes and William Telfer were leaning on the bar, watching their shipmates dance. "You know what the best part about this party is?" Celes asked. "It's always half the crew at any given time while the others are working. It's nice that we can all be here, that no one's on duty."

Telfer nodded. "Look, even Harren came." He pointed across the room, where Crewman Mortimer Harren was sitting at a table alone, completely engrossed in a padd. "Although he's not dancing."

Celes shrugged. "At least he came. He could have disobeyed orders."

"We should go talk to him."

"He doesn't really look like he wants any company."

"Then why did he come? I mean, the captain ordered us all here, but I didn't see anyone taking attendance. She wouldn't put him in the brig on the last night." He set his drink down. "I'll bet he wants company."

Celes sighed and followed Telfer over to Harren. He didn't look up as they took seats next to him.

"Hi," Celes greeted.

"Hello," he replied coldly, eyes still on the padd.

Celes looked at Telfer expectantly, but he just shrugged. In a moment of inspiration, Celes ripped the padd from Harren's hands, ignoring his cry of protest. "Do you want to dance?"

"With you?"

"Um, yes, with me?"

For a half-second, Telfer was afraid Harren was going to say something rude to Celes, but to his great surprise, Harren merely shrugged and said, "I suppose that's also part of Captain Janeway's orders." He rose and walked over to the dance floor, leaving a startled Celes to hurry after him.

"Look," Ensign Renlay Sharr said, pointing to Harren and Celes. "The captain's dancing, Seven of Nine is dancing, even Mortimer Harren is dancing." She turned to Gerron. "Won't you please – _please_ – dance with me?"

Gerron folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes slightly. But Mariah Henley patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Go on," she urged. "She won't bite."

Gerron sighed and let Sharr lead him to the dance floor. Though his eyes seemed uninterested, Sharr noticed that Gerron held her tightly. She smiled and leaned her cheek to his. "I've been watching you for seven years," she admitted. "And all that time, you've been angry." She waited a moment, not really expecting a response but giving him time for one anyway. "You don't have to be, you know."

"What have you lived through? What do you know about being angry?"

"I've been on Voyager for seven years, away from my friends and family. Doesn't that count?"

Gerron pulled away slightly to look at her. "We've _all_ been trapped on Voyager for seven years."

"Yeah, but not everyone has spent seven years pining after someone who had such a big chip on his shoulder he didn't even notice she was alive." Gerron just continued looking at her silently. "Say something," she exhorted.

"You've been 'pining after me' for seven years?"

"Maybe," she answered, settling her head on his shoulder as a big smile stretched across her face. She could tell the revelation pleased him.

Jenny Delaney also smiled as she watched them, her own head on Magnus Rollins' shoulder. She lifted it and looked him in the eye. "Rollins, why did you cut in on me and my sister?" She narrowed her eyes. "Tell the truth."

Rollins considered her demand for a moment before he placed a kiss on her surprised lips. "I'll tell you everything and more when this party dies down," he promised.

When the song ended, Janeway decided to make a real speech – a better one than she'd made that afternoon. She signaled Harry, who cut the music. As silence filled the room, Janeway climbed on top of the bar, using Tuvok's shoulder as a boost.

She looked out at the sea of over one hundred faces that had become so important to her in the last seven years. "You are the finest group of people I have ever worked with," she told them, and now that it was all coming to an end, she did not bother to prevent tears from welling in her eyes – though allowing them to fall was past her reach. She blinked rapidly a few times and tried to ignore the lump in her throat. "You have been my family, and this has been my home, and I will treasure the memories I have made here for the rest of my life." Simple and to the point. She crouched and jumped down from the bar.

Chakotay decided to follow suit before anyone could respond. He climbed on top of the nearest table. "When I first boarded Voyager, like many of you I was nervous, suspicious about what the future would hold. I feel the same way tonight. Seven years ago, I drew strength from knowing that thirty of my crew were coming with me. Tonight I draw strength from knowing that one hundred forty friends are leaving with me. I want to thank you all for the respect you have given me, when you did not need to," he gave a slight nod to Tuvok, "and for the compassion and dedication with which you have done your jobs. May the spirits guide you over the next few weeks."

Soon everyone wanted to say something, and the party naturally dissolved into one farewell toast after another. There were many tears and hugs. For all the years that Janeway described them as one crew, a family, many hadn't quite realized it before. It took the prospect of losing each other to make them realize how right she had been.

After a few minutes, Harry finally yelled, "Do that in two weeks! Tonight we celebrate!" and cranked up the music again.

* * *

"So the coolest thing my dad ever did," Andrew said skeptically, "was recreate main engineering on the holodeck?"

B'Elanna laughed and put an arm around her son-in-law. "It was much more than that, Drew. The lights, the music – he really created the right atmosphere for a party."

"This is all very interesting," Miral interrupted, "but this story is a little…fluffy. So far all we've heard about is who fell in love with whom when Voyager got home. There must be more to it than that."

"Have you tried the holoprogram yet?" B'Elanna asked her.

"No, Mother," Miral replied, "that's why we're standing in line."

"Don't be sarcastic to your mother," Tom chided.

"Well, listen, I think you'll get all the excitement you're looking for in the program," B'Elanna said. "I'll admit I had my doubts –"

"Doubts?" Tom repeated, eyebrows raised.

"All right," she admitted, "I wanted to tear out your grandfather's heart for authorizing the project. But I played it last week, and it's pretty fun. You should try Chapter 226 – 'The Haunted Spaceship from Hell.'" Miral and Andrew's faces were blank, so she continued, "The title's a little sensational, but it's fun to chase down your father as he becomes possessed and tries to fly into a particle fountain."

"We'll consider that recommendation," Andrew said in a voice that indicated he'd do no such thing. The line advanced slightly. "Have you seen my parents?"

"They're probably giving interviews somewhere like I was," B'Elanna guessed. "There's Reg." She waved Reg Barclay over to their group.

He greeted them all and then added, "Andrew, I haven't seen your father since he arrived. As soon as the Rhode Island docked at McKinley Station, he was swept up by reporters to talk about his mission to the Typhon Expanse."

"I know, I haven't seen him either." He gestured toward Miral. "They haven't even sent her a birthday greeting."

"Drew," Miral said affably, "my birthday is much less important than the twenty-fifth anniversary of Voyager's homecoming." She kissed his cheek, leaving a slight lipstick stain that she immediately rubbed off with her thumb. "Anyway, congratulations, Reg."

"Miral, your birthday, of course," Reg realized with embarrassment. "How could I have forgotten?"

"It's not a big deal," she assured him. "It's your night. Everyone's excited about the Voyager holoprogram."

"We've been waiting in line to try it," Andrew added.

"And why are the rest of you here?"

"Actually, Reg," the Doctor explained, "I've been telling the unauthorized version of Voyager's homecoming."

Reg put his arms around Miral and Andrew. "Did he tell you about Mariana Two?"

"I was getting there," the Doctor said with some annoyance. "If you'll all let me continue…"

"Okay, okay," Reg said, throwing up his hands.

"The official ship logs for that evening would note that the bridge had powered down and that entire crew had attended a social function on one of the holodecks," the Doctor began. "That part was true."

"But not the whole truth?" Andrew surmised.

"Yes!"

* * *

The logs did not mention the reckless abandon that seized some of the crew following the party, after they realized that Voyager was probably going to be stripped and taken out of service. Their home would cease to exist – and they would cease to be in it – after this night. And, perhaps more importantly, there was also no one around to scold them anymore, to make them follow protocols.

Until the wee hours of the morning heavy footfalls could be heard up and down corridors. Several science officers had gotten together a game of midnight hide-and-seek. Samantha Wildman even let Naomi join in until 0300.

There was, as Chakotay feared, rampant sexual activity in certain places: in turbolifts, in Jeffries tubes, in supply closets. It was a very normal response to the heightened emotions caused by their homecoming. No one dared desecrate the bridge, though, and Tom Paris, who spent the night watching his daughter sleep in her antique crib, never fulfilled his dream of defiling the conn.

He and B'Elanna had done enough damage to the Delta Flyer on their honeymoon.

Magnus Rollins made good on his plan to tell Jenny Delaney why he wanted to dance with her. He confessed to a two-year crush and was rewarded with her reciprocation. After leaving Harry's "Warp Drive" discotheque around 0100, they made rapturous love in the airponics bay until they emerged the next morning as the other officers were moving out for transport.

Several other officers found themselves coupling for the first time in celebration of their return and to alleviate their fears about the coming weeks. Others found themselves saying tearful goodbyes to lovers they knew they would no longer need. A few, like Crewmen Tiria Dennaker and Elise Foster, found themselves engaged. Most, though, took stock of Harry's philosophy and decided that this first night in seven years without the worry of getting home should be a night of wild abandon, and they laughed, danced, sang, and played practical jokes until sleep claimed them.

None of the senior officers participated in the antics. Tuvok wouldn't, and Harry was playing host at "Warp Drive" until 0300, after which he fell into a sound sleep in his quarters. Tom and B'Elanna, of course, were busy with Miral, and the Doctor had deactivated himself at 0300 after having the distinction of the last guest at the party (more likely the result of being a hologram without a drowsy subroutine than a party animal). Janeway had left the party much earlier, around 2330, with a lot on her mind.

Chakotay and Seven left the party together at 0130 and headed toward the cargo bay. Icheb was already there, regenerating in his alcove. Seven stepped up to her own alcove, and Chakotay loitered at her side. "I had an enjoyable evening," she told him softly.

"So did I," he agreed. He leaned toward her and kissed her slowly, savoring the experience. "Sweet dreams."

After leaving Seven, Chakotay turned in, but his blissful evening was shattered one piece at a time as his door chime rang throughout the night. Each time he opened the door, he only saw an empty corridor and heard footfalls heading away from his quarters. But he didn't care that the crew were acting like children. He no longer felt like the person in charge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**USS Voyager, Docked at McKinley Station, 2378**

The following morning, the transport to Mariana Two went smoothly, thanks to Harry Kim's final duty as operations officer. The only glitch that occurred in their timetable was a slight delay as Tom Paris tried to bring Miral's antique wooden crib. Harry apologized sincerely but insisted that it did not meet the guidelines for "necessary personal effects" and that Starfleet Medical would provide a baby bed. Tom had to repack the cargo container holding his television set to make the crib fit.

At precisely 0825 Harry deposited a container of over one hundred com badges he had collected on the transporter console. He understood why Starfleet wanted the ability to monitor all their outgoing communications, but he didn't entirely trust that a tropical island would be well enough equipped with universal translators. He hoped his friends would not find themselves unable to talk to one another for two weeks.

"That's it, Captain," he reported. "We're the last ones."

Janeway nodded, and she, Tuvok, and two remaining operations officers stepped into the enhanced transporter field with him. The Doctor took his position behind the control panel.

"Remember to transfer yourself to Sick Bay and deactivate yourself," Janeway reminded him. "And we'll see you in a few weeks."

The Doctor scoffed.

Janeway nodded briskly at Tuvok and stepped out of the transporter field. She laid a hand on the Doctor's arm. "I'm sorry you aren't coming with us, but, believe me, we will see you in two weeks. Nothing is going to happen to you before then. I promise you."

He nodded, and she returned to her place beside the other officers. At her command, he initiated transport and watched the last of his crewmates shimmer away. Never before had Voyager been so empty, so quiet. He went back to Sick Bay and deactivated himself, hoping there would be a day when someone reactivated him.

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day One**

On the surface it took them a moment to get their bearings. They were standing in an open field, outlined with palm trees. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and there was a warm, salty breeze in the air. Harry, Tuvok, and Janeway started walking in the direction of the other officers until they reached the central camp, a main building with a large entertainment room and mess hall, framed by small cabins, presumably their living quarters.

They were herded into the main building for medical exams. They were poked and prodded, hyposprayed, and – most humiliatingly – measured. Then they were subjected to full-room body scanners and blasted with new antibiotics and antivirals. When it was determined that no one was carrying anything hazardous from the Delta Quadrant, they were each subjected to an initial psychiatric evaluation (follow-ups would be scheduled on as-needed basis) and then, finally, released back into the wilds of Mariana Two.

Tuvok, whose health had worried Janeway, was quickly treated. It seemed almost farcical that a life-or-death situation in the Delta Quadrant that had sent her traveling back through time and battling the Borg was resolved in a mere matter of minutes at the hands of Starfleet Medical.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him with concern as they exited the main building.

"I will be fine," he reported. He turned to look at her, his eyes squinting just slightly shut. Though his voice conveyed no emotion, it was clear to both of them what he meant when he simply said, "Thank you."

Two weeks in a warm environment promised to do Tuvok a lot of good after seven years of recycled air on a starship. But it was wet on the tropical island, and he would have been more content with the arid climate of Vulcan. He also noticed within himself a growing discontent at watching Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres with their new child, and he recognized it as a need to be with his own family.

Logic, however, would dictate that his need could not be fulfilled until the end of the two weeks. For that reason, while many of the other crew members enjoyed swimming, playing games, and cooking primitive foods an open fire, Tuvok preferred quiet meditation as he awaited the expiration date on their quarantine.

Harry Kim was equally itchy for the end of their isolation. The excitement of the party on the holodeck had sufficiently distracted him the night before, but now that they had set foot on Earth, he could scarcely control his desire to return home. He talked to his parents the minute the first com station was available, and then he began the process of hunting down long-lost friends. When he connected with an old Academy buddy, Danny Byrd, they began to talk about their mutual friends, and Harry had the extreme displeasure of announcing the unusual double death of Ensign Lyndsay Ballard.

"She came back from the dead?" Danny repeated, the words not yet sinking in.

"Their species procreates by animating the dead of other species," Harry explained. "But Lyndsay escaped and came back to Voyager."

"Did you finally tell her you were in love with her?" Harry nodded. "Wow, it must have been hard losing her again."

_It sure was._ Harry knew on a rational level that Lyndsay – Jhet'leya – belonged with her new family now, but it didn't mean he was eager to talk about the whole awful experience. "It was," he said carefully, "but we all had run-ins with death at some point. I died once – or maybe twice – actually, I was duplicated once. Oh, no, make that twice."

"Harry," Danny interrupted, "your service on Voyager sounds crazier than mine on the Stockholm, and I was fighting in a war."

Harry thought perhaps it was time to change the subject back to something more enjoyable. "Have you been in touch with anyone else from the Academy?"

"Do you remember Remie Kam? I just saw her last week when I was at a conference."

"What's she doing now?"

"Counseling, if you can believe it. She specializes in interspecies relationships. She left Starfleet after her boyfriend was killed by the Jem'Hadar. She took it pretty hard."

"Remie Kam," Harry repeated, remembering a few concerts they'd all attended together. "What about her cousin?" A name suddenly came to his mind, one that he'd once thought of every waking minute but had long since tucked away in the recesses of his brain. "Libby."

"Libby Lipschitz. You two were quite a pair our last year at the Academy," Danny remembered. "She was at the Voyager memorial service."

"Have you seen her or talked to her since then?"

Danny shook his head. "But I think she's still in San Francisco. You should look her up."

"It's been an awfully long time," Harry said, as the memories of an old love slowly came back. It seemed like another life, one Harry wasn't sure he wanted to live again. "I don't know what I would say to her."

* * *

"You are wasting a valuable opportunity to study the genetic similarities of the native flora," Icheb lectured as he turned with a slight holier-than-thou look at Naomi, who sat a meter away in the dirt. He shook his head and resumed an intense scrutiny of the wild grass in front of him.

Naomi nearly rolled her eyes. Life on Mariana Two wasn't shaping up all that differently from life on Voyager. Icheb was still protective of her and still trying to tutor her, whether or not she wanted him to.

"Icheb," she said with exasperation, "this is supposed to be a vacation. We're supposed to go swimming or hiking. We're not supposed to being conducting research."

"We're supposed to be amusing ourselves, correct?" She nodded. "This is what I find amusing. The flora here are unlike any I've encountered in the Delta Quadrant, except in the airponics bay."

Naomi stood up and dusted off her hands. Then she set them firmly on her hips. "You want to go to Starfleet Academy, right? Well, guess what? You can study these plants there. Now, come on, let's go play volleyball with the rest of the crew."

"I don't want to play volleyball. How about a game of kadis kot?"

"You should play volleyball as Naomi suggested," Seven said as she came up behind them. Icheb looked at her pleadingly, but she was as dispassionate as ever. "Learning to recreate with humans will help you socialize at the Academy."

Naomi grinned triumphantly as Icheb rose to his feet and reluctantly followed her to the center of the compound with its makeshift volleyball court.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway was pleased that so many of the crew were finding their wilderness experience a pleasure, rather than an unfair burden. As they began to set up a volleyball court and claim sleeping cabins, she kept mostly to herself. She had had joyful conversations with her mother and sister, and then, like Icheb, she devoted the day to studying the native wildlife. If she thought too deeply about why she was isolating herself from the crew she had just professed to love, she was only left with the conclusion that it hurt to think about them going their separate ways. It was much easier to push that thought aside – first of all, because she preferred not to hurt, and second of all, because starship captains ought to be accustomed to gaining and losing crew members. She was, after all, back in Federation territory now, and she had to retrain herself to act like the model Starfleet captain she had once been.

Chakotay, on the other hand, was having plenty of fun with his old Maquis pals. When they were fighting for their lives every day, they savored every second of fun they could get, recklessly throwing themselves into pleasure – sex, alcohol, games, whatever came their way – to celebrate that they had lived another day. But then on Voyager they had developed a stiff protocol, with Chakotay no longer their gallant leader but first officer at a distance. Now his heart felt much lighter. Although there was the bittersweet uncertainty of the upcoming debriefings, they were genuinely enjoying each other's company without the artificial live-or-die fun they'd had on the Val Jean. And now that he was just a man, not their captain or first officer, Chakotay was free to be himself with them, and he appreciated the great liberties they took – teasing, calling him names, things that would have started a fight in the Maquis or ended with a reprimand on Voyager.

Following hours of swimming, hiking, playing volleyball, and pulling pranks on each other, their first day culminated in a campfire at sundown. In the flickering firelight, new pairs were revealed, as some sat holding hands or gently touching each other's backs and legs – small expressions of affection not permitted on duty that were now being savored in the open air. Chakotay also noticed several formerly friendly crew sitting on logs as far apart as they could. He supposed that was to be equally expected. Without the need for each other to survive, those who simply did not like each other were free to do so.

What pleased Chakotay about the group assembled around the fire was that, in spite of the uncertainty at what was to come, the crew had not factioned into Starfleet and Maquis camps. They were all equally enjoying each other's company.

It was for that reason he wanted the captain to be there; he knew it would have pleased her, too. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen her all day. Once upon a time, he might have taken it upon himself to go find her, but he wasn't really in the mood to play captain's morale officer.

Sitting next to him with her thigh pressing against his, Seven observed quietly, "Captain Janeway seems to be isolating herself from the group."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Chakotay said, taking her Borg-enhanced hand in his.

"She should be a part of the festivities," Seven insisted. "She has been avoiding my company since we arrived in the Alpha Quadrant."

Chakotay felt a stab of sympathy as he looked into her crystal blue eyes. He wished he could offer her some explanation. "I don't think it's personal. I'll bet she feels the captain's presence would change the mood."

"You and she insisted that Voyager's hierarchical structure no longer existed when we arrived here," Seven reminded him, "as we are currently on leave and a number of us will not be returning to Starfleet. You insisted that we only wear civilian attire and encouraged everyone to use given names, rather than rank."

"That doesn't mean it's easy for everyone to stop thinking of her as the captain." He let go of her hand with a small sigh. "I don't know what's going on with her, and frankly it's not my job to worry about it anymore."

But this did not satisfy Seven. "You have called Captain Janeway your friend on several occasions. Has that friendship terminated?"

"Seven, I don't know," he said tiredly. "Can't we just enjoy ourselves right now? If the captain wants to talk, she knows where to find us."

Seven rose from her perch on the log. "That is unsatisfactory," she said crisply. "It is in the interest of the group that all its members feel they are a part of it." She gave him a pointed look before disappearing into the darkness of the night.

_I should probably go after her._ Chakotay groaned inwardly. _But I really don't want to hear a lecture on my duty to the collective. She'll probably think over what she said and be fine in the morning. Or maybe she'll go talk to Kathryn, so I won't have to do. _

Chakotay moved closer to those still congregated around the fire, hoping to take his mind off the two women currently putting dark clouds over what had been a bright day. "What are you talking about?" he asked casually.

"Remember how we used to play 'What's the first thing you're going to do?' on the ship?" Ensign Ashmore asked, brandishing a bottle of replicated beer. "Now we're playing it for real." He turned to his right. "Okay, Murphy, you're first. What's the first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?"

"The first thing I'm going to do is take a vacation…_to Risa_." The suggestive nature of Ensign Murphy's plan evinced a few howls from the group. Murphy turned to his right. "Your turn, Jor."

"The first thing I'm going to do is visit my grandmother," Crewman Jor said. Next to her Tabor made a slight face. "What? I can't miss my nana?"

"I'm going to find out what school is like," Naomi Wildman declared, not bothering to wait for her turn.

"You'll like it," Megan Delaney told her. "You can get away with a lot more because there are so many other kids."

Samantha Wildman shot Megan a look. "Don't tell her that." But Megan smiled sweetly and shrugged. "The first thing I'm going to do," Samantha declared, "is give my husband a big kiss."

"That's sweet," Renlay Sharr said.

"What about you?" Mike Ayala asked her.

She thought for a moment. "The first thing I'm going to do is get one of those new uniforms so that everyone can't recognize me as one of the Voyager crew." She looked around the fire. "I'll bet Starfleet makes us do press conferences."

Ayala groaned. "I really don't want to think about that."

"I'll bet they throw us a parade," she continued. "What do you think, Chakotay?"

Chakotay shrugged. He knew Captain Janeway had half-expected a parade and a visit from the President of the Federation, but this plan to isolate them all on an island for two weeks made that seem like wishful thinking. He couldn't imagine what Starfleet, or the Federation Council, had up their sleeves.

But Sharr was off and running. "I'll bet we all become famous."

"I sincerely hope not," Ayala said.

"You don't want to be a celebrity?"

"No, it'll just mean I have to talk a lot about the Maquis. I'd rather just avoid that conversation."

"The first thing I'm going to do," Noah Lessing said serenely, palms stretched out to the fire, "is ask to be tried for my crimes on the Equinox."

Marla Gilmore put a hand on his knee supportively. "Me, too."

"I don't think Captain Janeway will let that happen," Chakotay told them.

"The first thing I'm going to do," Ensign Lang said, lightening the mood, "is go to the clothing houses in Milan. My wardrobe is seven years old! It must be out of fashion."

They laughed and continued the game until they began to straggle off to bed.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

Reg, Tom, and B'Elanna had long since abandoned Miral and Andrew in the line for the holodeck. But the Doctor was still enjoying his role as oral historian in spite of the interminable wait.

A group of young human men came down the corridor, and Andrew recognized one of them from a Voyager party many years ago. Both Miral and her sister L'Naan had given him the cold shoulder all night, and he'd been forced to spend the night talking to Sean Telfer, who was five years younger – a big difference in age and maturity at that time. "Hey, Sean!" he called. "Sean Telfer!"

Sean's face lit up when he saw them, and he greeted them all pleasantly. "You're still waiting in line for the program?"

Miral nodded. "What chapter did you run?"

"They're not letting people choose anymore," Sean reported. "To speed things up, the computer is randomly selecting. I got a diplomatic mission." His face clouded over. "It was pretty weird. Some species called the Tak Tak. Anyway, I have to go. My friends are waiting for me. We've been standing in line all night. For the Tak Tak." He shook his head a little as he hurried to catch up with his friends.

Miral saw the Doctor's mild distress. "I'm sure it's a great chapter."

"We worked very hard to get their gestural language correct," he sniffed.

"Sean is right, though," Andrew pointed out to Miral. "It feels as if we've been waiting for an hour…not that I haven't enjoyed the old stories, Doc."

"I suggested they equip the cargo bays with holoemitters to accommodate the extra visitors, but did anyone listen to me?" the Doctor grumbled.

"They just don't see how important you are, Doc," Andrew said with a shake of his head.

The Doctor was pacified – and touched. "You're just trying to make me feel better, Andrew," he observed. "But thank you."

"Why don't you continue?" Miral suggested. "You were saying something about Ensign Lang and fashion."

"Speaking of fashion, Elina must here by now. Would you like to come back to the shuttle bay with me to find her?"

"I can't wait to meet her," Miral said sincerely, "but we should probably try to find Harry and Libby first."

"Suit yourselves," he said, heading off.

Andrew turned to Miral. "I'm tired of waiting in line."

"Me, too," she agreed. "Let's go find your parents."

As they stepped out of line and headed down the corridor, Andrew put his arm around Miral's shoulder. "Darling wife, you've been on a mission for awhile. What's the first thing you want to do when you get home?"

"I'd be willing to tell you the answer to that question, darling husband," Miral teased, "if you promise never to call me 'darling wife' again."

Andrew smiled as he summoned the turbolift. When the doors opened, he reflexively dropped the arm he had around Miral and jumped to attention. "Admiral."

Admiral Janeway pulled him into the turbolift by way of a hug, which she then bestowed upon Miral. "How do you like my old ship?"

"It's beautiful," Andrew answered earnestly. "They've done a great job turning it into a museum."

"What have you seen so far?"

"Actually, we were standing in line for the holodeck and got a little sidetracked," Miral explained. "The Doctor has been telling us about your quarantine on Mariana Two."

"Oh." Miral noticed a slight crease between the admiral's eyebrows for a second before she said in a dismissive tone, "I hope he wasn't telling you anything he shouldn't have."

"Of course not," she readily agreed, watching the admiral's face relax slightly. "Any idea where we can find Harry and Libby?"

"I thought they were heading to astrometrics," Janeway said. "Even if they're not, you should stop there. There's a display charting Voyager's entire journey through the Delta Quadrant."

Andrew nodded and gave the turbolift the order. A moment later, he and Miral stepped out, promising to find the admiral later. Once the doors had closed behind them, Andrew mused quietly, "She must have felt so lonely watching Chakotay and Seven get closer to each other."

"She could have said something," Miral pointed out.

"Like what?"

"Maybe if she had told Chakotay how much she cared about him, he wouldn't have gone after Seven."

Andrew frowned. "Are you sure she was in love with him?"

Miral shrugged. "My dad once told me that when they first arrived on Voyager, you could see the tension between the admiral and Chakotay. I don't know. Maybe it fizzled out over time?"

"So maybe she wasn't in love with him when he started dating Seven?" Andrew hypothesized.

"If that's true, then why was she upset about it?"

"You don't understand anything about unrequited love," Andrew told her. "She probably wasn't in love with him anymore, but they were still really close friends, and he was always at her side. Even if they weren't in a relationship, it probably felt like one. She was sad they lost that intimacy when he got with someone else."

"Andrew," she admonished, "what do _you_ know about unrequited love? Besides, the real question is: why didn't Chakotay realize was happening?"

"When a drop-dead gorgeous woman trusts you enough to be her first lover," Andrew said with authority, "that's all that matters." Miral glared at him. "What?"

"First of all, I'd like to think that Chakotay actually cared about Seven of Nine, beyond her looks," she said pointedly as they entered astrometrics. She halted her tirade. "Hey, nobody's here."

Andrew walked around, taking in the lab. "My dad designed this place, you know." His eyes fell on the large screen at the back of the room that, as the admiral had promised, displayed Voyager's route through space. "A two-dimensional screen? That's how they plotted their way home?" he gaped, resting his elbows on the console in front of it. "I mean, it's got some nice images, but…it's a two-dimensional screen!"

Miral leaned closed to him. "Your dad designed it," she reminded him, her breath hot on his ear. Sensing she had his attention, she continued, "Now, about being some drop-dead gorgeous woman's first lover –"

"I meant you," he retorted, watching her facial expression shift from "you're in trouble now" to "you're so sweet." Andrew smiled and put his arms around her. But before he could kiss her, the doors abruptly slid open. "Mom! Dad! We've been looking for you all night!"

"Drew!" Libby Kim called warmly. "Admiral Janeway said she thought we'd find you here." She planted a warm kiss on each of their cheeks. Harry followed with hugs and birthday wishes for Miral.

"We didn't interrupt anything, did we?" Libby asked with concern.

Andrew and Miral looked at each other uncertainly, and then Miral said definitively, "Actually, yes. Andrew thinks it was okay for Chakotay to get involved with Seven of Nine, even though it hurt Admiral Janeway, and I don't, but I think it's the admiral's fault for not telling Chakotay how she felt."

"Anything you want to add to the story of Voyager's quarantine, Dad?" Andrew asked.

Harry let out a breath. "That was all a very long time ago." He leaned against a console contemplatively. "Well, I guess I'd have to add that at first Mariana Two seemed like a vacation in paradise, but eventually it became a kind of prison. Admiral Janeway assured us that the Maquis wouldn't have to stand trial, but nobody could really let themselves believe it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Five**

"I'm going to win this time," Harry said, rubbing his palms together. He took up the next rectangular piece. "It's been five years, but I'm going to beat you."

Tuvok said nothing but simply waited for Harry to place the piece, certain that he would not win. It was precisely because it had been five years that he knew this. While Harry had improved over the years, he still lacked a certain logical precision and sangfroid necessary to outwit a master.

Harry placed the piece and waited. Nothing happened. He groaned.

Tuvok calmly picked up another piece and added it to the opposite side of the structure. The matrix realigned immediately with a rewarding beep. "Kal-toh."

Harry groaned again. "Tuvok, we are not leaving this island until I beat you."

"Mr. Kim," Tuvok intoned, "we have been on this island for five days. During that time we have played fifteen games of kal-toh, and you are no closer to winning now than you were the first time we played together."

"We have nine days left." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Of course, we could stay longer if necessary."

"There is not enough time in your lifespan."

"Tuvok, was that a joke? Or an insult?"

"It was a mere statement of fact, Ensign. Shall we play again?"

* * *

The Voyager crew had had a campfire every night without Tom and B'Elanna. On the fifth day, Harry decided it was time to change that. After the sun set that night, he crossed the camp to their cabin with purpose.

He could see B'Elanna inside, sitting on the bed with Miral in her arms. When he first met her, Harry would never have imagined B'Elanna to be the maternal type, but he had to admit she looked great holding a baby. Apparently, Tom thought so, too; Harry could see him in the far corner of the cabin, watching B'Elanna just as he was.

**_USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2377_**

"_You're happy about this, right?"_

_As soon as she asked the question, Tom knew he had precisely two seconds to respond before she wouldn't believe his answer, no matter what he said. The trouble was that he wasn't sure. He wanted to be a father, of course – wanted to be the father of B'Elanna's child, more specifically – but there was a big difference between talking about it (or, better, trying for it) and being summoned unexpectedly to Sick Bay to hear the news._

_Time was up. B'Elanna was searching his eyes, hoping to uncover her own feelings. Tom opted for the truth. "Of course I'm happy. Just a little overwhelmed, that's all."_

_B'Elanna's face relaxed as she admitted, a little nervously, "Me, too. Can we keep this to ourselves for a while?"_

"_Absolutely," he agreed. They hugged as much in relief that they were both having the same mixed emotions as in happiness at the news. _

_When they pulled apart, B'Elanna laughed in disbelief, delight, and embarrassment all at once. "I need to get work. See you later, __Dad__." _

_The name still hadn't quite sunk in before the mess hall doors opened, and the crew burst into applause. In that instant Tom knew it didn't matter if the baby was a surprise or if he'd have to study child-rearing on the holodeck – none of that mattered. B'Elanna was pregnant. They were going to have a baby. He was going to be a daddy. And he was really, really excited._

"I can't get over how much she looks like you," Tom whispered as he slid onto the bed beside B'Elanna and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said seriously, turning to look at him. Tom frowned slightly, not comprehending. "For not saying anything about…what I tried to do to her."

Tom smiled at her best efforts toward an apology. B'Elanna always fumbled a little when she had to admit she was wrong, but she always tried anyway – a fact Tom found sweet. "I just meant she's beautiful like you," he said easily, letting the subject drop.

B'Elanna's eyes flickered away from the baby to Tom for a brief second, and Tom could see she understood all of the things going unsaid between them. He smiled again, squeezing her tightly with the hand on her shoulder. With a finger of the other hand he stroked Miral's cheek.

Harry decided it was time to make his presence known. He knocked on the frame of the cabin. "Can I come in?"

"Come in, Starfleet," B'Elanna called in a voice like honey. She gave him a warm smile.

Harry sat down on the bed, facing them. He leaned down to kiss Miral gently on the cheek before returning B'Elanna's smile. "Have you two decided what you want to do after this?"

"Not yet," Tom answered. "We're still talking about it."

"I know a lot has changed for you over the years," Harry began. He looked at Miral and added, "Over the last few days. But I'd like you to consider staying in Starfleet."

"Harry –" B'Elanna began.

He held up his hand. "I know, I know. At least promise me you'll spend a few days in San Francisco with me before you disappear and I never see you again."

"Harry," Tom said, clapping his friend's shoulder, "what's it going to be like without seeing you every day?"

"You'll miss me, admit it," Harry teased, forcing a smile.

"I thought we'd be able to count on you to baby-sit when we wanted to be alone," Tom said in the phony voice he used when he couldn't really express his emotions. The trouble was that B'Elanna and Harry both knew it. In truth it pained Tom to think they wouldn't be raising Miral around their friends, especially Harry.

It pained Harry to think that, too. When Tom and B'Elanna had first become involved, it had been a huge adjustment. His friendship with B'Elanna had completely changed. And then Tom had decided he wanted to marry her.

**_USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2376_**

"_You know," Tom said as Harry placed his saxophone back on its stand, "it's a lot more uplifting to listen to you play the saxophone than the clarinet." He propped his feet up on Harry's coffee table, folding his hands in his lap. "It's less broody somehow."_

"_I'll be sure to tell Sue," Harry said, settling onto the sofa beside his friend. "So, are you going to tell me what you and B'Elanna are fighting about this time?"_

_Tom's head dropped against the back of the sofa. "Our beloved drone," he confessed with a deep sigh. "I invited Seven to Fair Haven."_

_Harry cringed, nearly snorting. "What were you thinking?"_

"_I was just trying to be friendly," Tom insisted. "Doc was whining about how Seven's never heard him say Sunday mass." He raised his head. "Why does B'Elanna always have to hate something just because everyone else likes it?"_

"_There's not much for her to like about Fair Haven," Harry pointed out. "B'Elanna doesn't like 'quaint.' She likes athletics and technology. And in Fair Haven all the women wear long skirts and do domestic work. Can you really see her fitting in?"_

"_She could try," Tom grumbled. "And what about Seven? Why can't I be friends with her? Is B'Elanna really that insecure about our relationship?"_

"_They've never been the best of friends, Tom."_

_Tom glared slightly. Harry wasn't supposed to be making reasonable arguments; he was supposed to be siding with him. "She's not friends with a lot of people, Harry. That never stopped me from being friends with them."_

"_Seven's different."_

"_Why?"_

"_Do I have to spell it out for you? Seven's beautiful, for one thing, and she's intelligent. She's a good engineer – maybe even better than B'Elanna. B'Elanna feels threatened by her. And you being nice to her doesn't help." _

_Tom threw his head back on the sofa again. "I'm not interested in Seven of Nine," he insisted. "I'm not interested in anyone but B'Elanna. Why can't she see that?"_

_At his friend's testament of fidelity, Harry became more sympathetic. "What did she say?"_

"_She told me that if I wanted to spend so much time with Seven, I ought to just marry her." Harry tried not to laugh, imagining exactly how B'Elanna must have sounded when she said that and agreeing with Tom that she was being a little insecure. "And the thing is," Tom continued, "that's exactly what I want to do."_

"_Marry Seven?" Harry asked with confusion. Tom lifted his head again to make eye contact, and Harry realized what he really meant. "Whoa."_

"_Ever since the two of you were lost when the Delta Flyer crashed, I just can't stop thinking about it."_

"_How are you going to ask her?"_

"_I don't know," Tom admitted. "I don't even know if it's something B'Elanna would consider. I was hoping you'd have some advice."_

_Harry bit his lip. In truth, he'd always known this day would come. Tom and B'Elanna, in spite of their constant fighting, belonged together. He was happy they'd both found something – someone – they obviously needed, but he couldn't help feeling a little left out. His friendship with Tom hadn't changed much in the last three years, but he and B'Elanna weren't really friends anymore, not as they'd once been. And if his two best friends got married, well, he could only hope Ayala was ready to start spending a lot of time with him. _

"If you want me to baby-sit," Harry said lightly, "you'll have to stay in San Francisco. And the biggest source of employment in San Francisco –"

"Is Starfleet," B'Elanna finished. She passed Miral to him. "You just don't give up, do you?"

"Nope," Harry said happily.

"Why are you so sure you'll be working at Starfleet Command?" Tom asked him. "Don't you want to get an assignment on a ship or a starbase somewhere?"

Harry sighed. "I think I've had enough space travel for awhile."

"Well, it doesn't take long to get from New Zealand to San Francisco," Tom said cynically.

B'Elanna and Harry both looked at him. "Will you stop it with that? No one is going to send you back to the penal colony," B'Elanna chastised. She smiled wryly. "Worst case scenario, you end up on a work detail in your father's office, cleaning the carpets."

"At least then I'd be able to visit Harry a lot," he quipped.

"What about you, B'Elanna?" Harry asked.

She smiled more sincerely. "You're cute when you're worried about losing your friends."

**_Ledos, Delta Quadrant, 2377_**

"_This is better than I expected," Harry confessed as he and Neelix climbed a series of stones toward the waterfall. Without thinking, Harry reached back and offered a hand to B'Elanna. She took it, also without thinking, and let him help her up the treacherous path. Only once they were safe on a ledge overlooking the waterfall did it occur to Harry what he'd done, what B'Elanna had allowed him to do. She was definitely, he decided, much more docile now that she was pregnant. Eight months ago, she'd have ripped his arm out of its socket for even offering it to her._

"_I think I'm going to walk around a little," Neelix said. He meandered away, leaving Harry and B'Elanna alone. They turned to each other._

"_Right about now," B'Elanna said with a wan smile, "I'll bet Tom is demonstrating to the flight instructor that he knows to fire a thruster."_

"_You're being a good sport about his flying lessons," Harry said. "I know you were looking forward to shore leave together."_

_B'Elanna shrugged. "Comes with the territory. With Tom you never know what's going to happen." She shook off any semblance of woe and forced herself to smile at Harry, her face reflecting the sunlight. "Besides, now I get to spend time with you."_

_Harry smiled back, at once marveling at how beautiful she was and acknowledging that he was sloppy seconds. Still, he was glad to have a little time with her before the baby was born. It was rare that he and B'Elanna were together without Tom, and sometimes he missed her friendship. Before he could think of how to express that to her, though, she grunted and put her hands to her belly. "Is she kicking?"_

"_More like performing the __mok'bara__." She pulled his hand to feel. To him it seemed like a painful kick, and Harry looked at her in surprise, but she was beaming. "Harry," she said softly as he withdrew his hand, "it's nice to see you like this." He nodded, turning to look out over the waterfall so as not to embarrass her with this potentially emotional conversation. B'Elanna followed his gaze but continued, "Sometimes I feel like Tom stole you from me."_

"_What?"_

"_You were my friend first," she explained, "but pretty soon you were his best friend. And we stopped spending time together."_

"_B'Elanna, I never stopped being your friend," he pledged, turning back to her._

"_I know," she said, still avoiding eye contact. "Harry, are you sure you're okay with the Doctor being the baby's godfather? There's no reason she can't have two."_

_Harry smiled. "I told you already, my feelings aren't hurt. I'm sure all of us uncles will get plenty of time with little Miss Paris once she arrives and you go back to work in engineering."_

"_Yeah." B'Elanna fell silent, and Harry, sensing their conversation was over, turned once again to the waterfall. But a moment later he felt B'Elanna's warm hand wrapping around his own._

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I didn't come here to give you a hard time about staying in Starfleet."

"Why did you come here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my niece?" he asked, bestowing a few kisses on her nearly bald head.

"Harry's almost as possessive of her as you are," B'Elanna commented to Tom.

"Har, did you just come here to check up on our parenting skills?"

"Actually, I came to tell you that a bunch of people are gathering around the campfire. It's becoming a nightly ritual. You should join them. I'll watch her."

Tom looked at B'Elanna. "How about it?"

She frowned and rubbed her stomach, still a little inflated. "I don't have anything to wear that fits me correctly right now."

"It's dark," he reminded her. "No one cares what you wear. They just care about seeing you."

"And _you_," Harry added to Tom.

B'Elanna stroked the back of Miral's head lovingly. "She should be put down in about an hour – not that she'll stay asleep."

"I'll take good care of her," Harry promised.

B'Elanna scooted to the edge of the bed, where Tom was already waiting for her. Then she looked worriedly back at Harry and Miral.

"We'll be ten meters away," Tom reminded her. B'Elanna nodded and rose from the bed. "Thanks, Har. We'll be back soon."

B'Elanna whirled around once more, abruptly, and planted a kiss on Harry's cheek in surprise. He felt himself beginning to blush as he looked at Tom, but Tom was smiling with approval. Then his friends exited the cabin, leaving Harry alone with his charge.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

"That was one of the few times your parents joined the group around the campfire," Harry continued. "They spent most of their time taking long walks on the beach, figuring out their plans. Ayala and I used to watch them in the distance, trying to guess what they were talking about."

"My dad was worried he'd be sent back to the penal colony?" Miral asked.

Harry nodded. "And your mother could have been tried for treason. Tom said he saw three possible outcomes. One, that the Maquis would be put on trial. He was supposed to have been paroled for helping Captain Janeway, but even so, what would he do if your mother was sent away? He couldn't live without her. The second possibility was that they would be pardoned for their crimes in the Maquis but not allowed to stay in Starfleet, in which case they'd have to figure out where they wanted to live and what kind of jobs they wanted. The best possibility was that they would get to stay in Starfleet, in which case they'd have to decide what kind of assignment they wanted – on a ship, at a starbase, or somewhere on Earth for awhile. Regardless of where they went, being a Starfleet officer on Voyager was going to be different than being one back in the Alpha Quadrant – that was something we were all about to discover."

"What about you, Dad?" Andrew asked. "Did you think about leaving Starfleet?"

"Not for a second. I just wanted another pip on my collar."

"And now you have four," Libby said lovingly.

"How's the captaincy treating you?" Miral asked.

"Believe it or not," Harry said with a smile, "it's exactly what I expected it would be."

"And Libby? Life on the Rhode Island?"

"The junior officers are still calling me 'ma'am,'" she reported with a smile. "No matter how many times I invite them to dinner and insist they call me by name."

Andrew saw the profound annoyance in his father's eyes. "Mom, you shouldn't be making dinner for the junior officers."

"Why not?" Libby challenged. "Don't they need to eat?"

Miral grinned and put an arm around her. "So, Harry, you were saying that paradise turned into prison?"

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Four**

A sadness had taken over the twinkle in Tom's eyes, B'Elanna noticed. And the edges of his mouth, usually just slightly turned up, had begun to pull downward with a more distinctive crease. He was aging before her eyes. She gently touched the corner of his lip with her thumb, smiling at him.

Tom grabbed her hand and kissed it. "What are you doing?"

A few months ago, that question would have been asked with a wicked smile and a sparkle in those blue eyes; it would have led to a little flirting, then a little kissing, and then a very athletic romp in bed. Now, though, B'Elanna just saw an empty expression behind his empty question.

"I'm trying to memorize your face," she told him honestly. "In case."

Tom shook his head. "Don't say stuff like that. We're supposed to be on vacation."

"Some vacation. It's always raining, we haven't slept in days because Miral never sleeps, and I have no idea if we're going be sent off to prison when it's over."

"Leave it to you to look on the bright side."

It was a feeble joke, not at all up to his usual standards, but B'Elanna indulged him with a smile. She let her hand rest on his thigh while she thought for a moment. "In some ways," she admitted quietly, "I wish we hadn't gotten back." She looked up at him, searching his eyes, but she already knew he agreed. And, anyway, it wasn't worth talking about; they were back, and they had to accept whatever that meant. "I guess I should take a shower and get dressed."

They had fallen into a routine during their four days in quarantine, taking turns being the strong one. Today it was Tom's turn. So he said with false bravado, "Maybe we'll all be assigned somewhere together. If not, there's always subspace messages."

"Whatever you say," B'Elanna called as she headed into the bathroom.

Miral stirred in her crib across the room, and Tom hurried over to her. As he rocked her gently in his arms, Harry appeared at their doorway. "Hey, you want to go sailing?"

"I don't think so, buddy."

"Come on, the sun is shining, it's a beautiful day, and the wind is perfect."

"It's almost time for her to eat," Tom said.

Harry decided not to press the issue any further. He didn't know what it was like to be a father, but he knew Tom's priorities had shifted. "Okay. Maybe later we have dinner together? All of us?"

"We'll see," Tom said.

"Whatever you say," Harry called over his shoulder as he walked away in defeat.

* * *

"I wonder how this would be different if Neelix were here," Mariah Henley mused. She fastened her end of the volleyball net as tautly as possible, shaking the last drops of rain off it. "I'll be he could have gotten Captain Janeway to join us."

Chell frowned as he hooked the other end of the net. He was certain others had noticed the captain's absence, too. He hadn't really expected Janeway to let herself descend to their ranks during this sojourn, but neither was he too thrilled at the way she was very clearly choosing isolation. If only to stop the rampant speculation, if not for her own well-being, he wished she would join them at least once. As Neelix's self-appointed successor, he decided to take some action. After the game.

"I'm not playing on Gerron's team," Henley declared firmly.

Gerron frowned as he carried the ball toward them. "Why not?"

"You are the worst volleyball player ever," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're really terrible."

Gerron looked at his fellow Bajorans Tabor and Celes for support. "Fine," Tabor said, "Gerron, Celes, and I will play against you and Chell. You think Gerron's bad? You've obviously never played with Chell."

"Hey!" Golwat interjected. "Leave Chell alone." She crossed the field to stand protectively at Chell's side.

"What is this?" Henley wondered. "The Bolians versus the Bajorans in the Alpha Quadrant showdown?"

"You know who we need on our team?" Chell said. "Seven of Nine. Her aim and her stamina are, well –"

"Perfection?" Henley finished dryly. "Just serve the ball."

"Speaking of," Golwat said with a nod toward the far end of the compound. Henley turned and saw Seven of Nine walking out of a cabin.

"Isn't that her cabin over there?" Chell asked, pointing in the opposite direction.

"It sure is," Henley said. Chell opened his mouth, but Henley patted him on the back and said, "Don't ask."

* * *

"I wish I'd known Seven of Nine," Andrew said. When Miral raised her eyebrows at him speculatively, he added, "Just to understand how she won Chakotay over."

She gave him one long look before turning back to Harry. "It must have been awkward for everyone to realize what had happened between them."

"Making people feel awkward was Seven's forte," Harry explained.

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Seven**

"Ensign Kim, I would like to thank you." Seven's voice might have been as monotone as ever, but her eyes held an emotional depth Harry had never seen before.

"For what?"

Seven took a small breath, as if collecting her thoughts. "Shortly after I boarded Voyager, I asked you to copulate with me in the mess hall."

Those immortal words. Harry could hear them echoing through his mind from time to time; he still wondered why he had turned her down. _Because it was the right thing to do. Because she didn't really understand the implications. It would have been taking advantage of her. Because I'm a good guy._ Still, some part of him wondered what it would have been like...

"I was unaware of the complexities of my proposition. Now that I have become involved with Chakotay, I understand the sense of intimacy a sexual encounter can produce between two people, and I appreciate your sensitivity four years ago."

Harry caught his breath but managed a small, awkward smile. Had Seven of Nine just admitted she'd lost her virginity to Chakotay? He didn't really want to imagine that particular "sexual encounter."

"Have I embarrassed you?"

"I…"

Seven frowned, and Harry could tell his reaction had disappointed her. "I merely meant to thank you for behaving honorably," she said. Pause. "And for your friendship."

Harry's smile became genuine. "You're welcome, Seven. Thank you for being my friend, too."

She gave a slight nod before moving to the other side of the campfire, where Chakotay was sitting. Harry saw him put his arm around her without thinking about it – naturally, as if they belonged together.

"What was that all about?" Ayala asked, dropping into the seat Seven had vacated. He handed Harry a stick with a roasted marshmallow.

Harry slid the marshmallow off and popped into his mouth. "Mike," he managed to stay through the gooeyness, "you don't even want to know."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sophiedoodle and GLovesTrek, you're such loyal reader/reviewers. Thanks, guys!_

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* * *

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Chapter 5

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

"So what happened with the volleyball game?" Miral asked, trying to shift focus for Andrew's sake. If the expression on his face was any clue, it didn't take Seven in the flesh, only stories about her, to make him feel awkward. Of course, everything made Andrew feel awkward.

"Well," Harry continued, "more than anything, Chell wanted the captain to join in."

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Four**

Captain Janeway emerged from the main recreational hall, and Chell immediately spotted her. He called her name once, then again, and she waved but continued on her way.

"I'll be right back," Chell said, tossing the volleyball to Golwat. He jogged across the compound to the captain and tried not to pant too heavily as he asked her to join the game.

"Oh, I don't think so, Chell," she said automatically with a dismissive wave of her hand.

He took her elbow and leaned close. "Captain, I can't help but notice you've stayed away from everyone for the last two days. I really think you should show the crew just how much you meant it when you said we were a family by joining us."

"Families don't have to have the same interests," she whispered back. She looked down at where his blue hand still had a firm grip on her elbow, and he released it guiltily. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd prefer to read in my cabin. Let me know which team wins."

* * *

"If Admiral Janeway saw Seven coming out of Chakotay's cabin," Miral speculated, "she must have been upset."

"Chakotay and Seven?" Harry shook his head. "It wasn't quite that simple. The captain – Admiral Janeway – she had promised to bring us all home for seven years, even at the expense of several crew members' lives. For seven years she was working toward that singular goal. And she followed through on her promise. But that meant the one thing that had kept her going for so many years no longer existed. And bringing the crew back to their families meant they'd all leave her. She also knew she wasn't in charge anymore. She couldn't protect us. Our time on Mariana Two was limited, and once the debriefings began, she wouldn't be able to control what happened to us. It was a hard truth for her to accept."

"It didn't help that her protégée and first officer had become involved," Libby argued.

"So what happened?" Miral wanted to know.

"We'd been on the island for about three days when the rains started," Harry recalled. "With that everyone's spirits dropped. Your parents had your naming ceremony in the middle of a huge storm, and then they disappeared again. Tuvok retreated to his cabin to meditate. By the fifth day, the transmissions from our families started coming in. And things started getting complicated."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Five**

"B'Elanna," Tabor announced, knocking on the frame to their cabin. "There's an incoming transmission for you. I think it's your father."

B'Elanna took a deep breath. She had expected that he would contact her, but she was still unprepared for the moment. They'd only talked briefly while she was pregnant, and they hadn't exchanged any letters since then. They were still essentially strangers, and her father didn't know Tom or Miral at all.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Tom asked gently.

She nodded. "Let's bring her. He might as well get to see her."

"Maybe we should call my sister afterward," Tom suggested, lifting Miral from her Starfleet-issue baby bed. "I've been avoiding her all week."

B'Elanna nodded again. "Let's just get it all over with."

The conversation with John Torres was brief and strained. It wasn't easy for B'Elanna to let down her guard around him, though having Tom at her side helped somewhat. At least Miral made it easy for them to find things to talk about. She told her father about the baby's firsts, and Miral gurgled a bit for him. John seemed genuinely delighted to see his granddaughter, and he told them he was touched that they had named the baby after B'Elanna's mother. B'Elanna wanted to tell him that it wasn't a favor – that they'd chosen the name for their own sakes, not his – but she just nodded and let the conversation drift in another direction. She remembered the first time Voyager had had contact with Tom's father, when a letter had arrived with Owen Paris's name at the top, and Tom had been just as unsure of himself as she was now. At the time, she'd been the voice of reason, reminding him that people change. It was a lesson she knew she needed to remember.

Still, twenty years was a long time.

After a few minutes, they broke communication with a promise to keep in touch. But B'Elanna was fairly certain they weren't going to arrange a family reunion any time soon.

* * *

Naomi Wildman looked at the man on the screen whose face was so like her own. She'd grown up looking at images of his face, and she'd talked to him for a few minutes on Voyager – and she still wasn't certain how to explain the sense of emotional distance she felt when she looked at him.

"Naomi," he said softly, his voice oozing with enough emotions for both of them.

She smiled politely at him, and, recognizing her lack of affection, he turned with some confusion to her mother.

"Maybe it'll take some time," Samantha said gently.

"I want to show you something," Greskrendtgrek said. He moved out of the way, and they could see behind him a room full of pictures of Naomi at different ages. "Every time your mother sent me another image, I put it here. I look at pictures of your face every day and think about you every day."

Naomi bit her lip. Clearly he'd intended the display to be touching, but it was a little creepy to see her whole life laid out before her eyes like some kind of museum exhibit. It didn't make her feel loved; it made her feel estranged as an object of worship.

"I have something else," he said. He held up a kadis kot board.

Naomi looked at him in surprise. "Do you know how to play?"

Greskrendtgrek and Samantha both noticed the way her face perked up. "I started teaching myself the moment your mother told me you liked it. I can't wait to play against you. I'll bet you can't beat me."

Naomi rose to the challenge in spite of her promise to herself to keep this stranger at a distance. "You don't know what you're saying," she told him with confidence. "I can beat everyone on Voyager."

"Good, then we're on," Greskrendtgrek said with a happy smile toward Samantha. "When you get home from the debriefings, we'll have a match. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

"I heard so much about the kids that it's an honor to finally meet them," Ayala said. "And you."

Margaret Carey, the wife of deceased Lieutenant Joe Carey, smiled faintly. "It's nice to know that Joe made friends. I hate to think of him missing us."

"He missed you," Ayala assured her. "He missed you a lot, but, yes, he made friends. He tried to be happy on Voyager. He was a great guy. He was well-loved."

"Tell me something about him, something that happened on Voyager," Margaret said. It was remarkably unfair that she'd had to lose her husband three times – once when Voyager was declared missing, then again when she received the official communiqué informing her of his death, and now again that Voyager had returned and the reality of it was staring her in the face. He'd lasted for seven years on that ship; that he'd died mere months before their return was too ironic. And now she was talking with his closest friend from Voyager, someone who knew him better than even she did over the last few years. She needed to absorb everything Joe had shared with this man in order to feel some sense of what he had lived through in her absence.

"We sang a duet together for Talent Night once," Ayala told her. "He had a pretty good voice."

"Let me guess," Margaret said. "'Danny Boy'?"

Ayala nodded. "Not quite my style, but the captain loved it," he reported. "We also had a holoprogram set in an Irish village, Fair Haven. Joe decided to reinvent himself there. He was a sheep farmer. We'd go to the pub on Friday nights for a pint and a game of rings." Ayala looked down at his lap for a moment. "Some of his personal effects were put in storage."

"The ship in a bottle?" Margaret asked. "He wrote me a letter, telling me how proud he was of it."

"And some other items. I'd like to deliver them to you when the debriefings are over."

"That's not necessary. I'm sure Starfleet will arrange for them to be transported to us."

"I'd like to," he repeated again, and she nodded, understanding that he needed closure to Joe's death as much as she did.

* * *

In one fluid motion Renlay Sharr dropped her lunch tray on Gerron's table and straddled the chair opposite him. "What's the matter? You look morose. I mean, even for you."

"I just got a message from my aunt on Bajor," he explained, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. "During the Occupation she taught music lessons to schoolchildren, even though the Cardassians had banned 'primitive art forms.' After the Cardassians left, she started a youth orchestra in the Kendra Valley."

"She sounds like a remarkable person."

"You know what she's doing now?" he continued, not really hearing her. "She's going on a special humanitarian mission to Cardassia Prime to record native music."

"So?"

"So," Gerron groused, "the whole idea is to document and archive culture, to help bring back art and music and literature to the Cardassian people. Why the hell is she doing that?"

Sharr thought a moment how to respond. She was certain Gerron had lived through real horrors during the Cardassian Occupation of Bajor that she, as a human from Earth, couldn't imagine. But she also thought he was probably going to have to let go of his anger if he was going to move on with his life. It had been a long time, and from what she had been reading in the newsfeeds, a lot had happened to the Cardassians and Bajorans since then.

"Can I join you?" Celes asked, hovering at her side with a tray. Sharr nodded, Celes took the seat beside her. "I just got a message from Bajor."

"What a coincidence," Gerron said acerbically, "so did I."

Ignoring his tone, Sharr asked, "What did it say?"

"Well, I think we all know I'm not really cut out for Starfleet," Celes began.

"You've really grown over the last few years."

"Thanks," Celes continued with a slight smile, "but I don't think Starfleet is right for me. It turns out there's a humanitarian mission to Cardassia. The First Minister thinks it will help restore diplomatic relations. I've always really liked the visual arts, so I requested a position. I'm going to be helping restore some of the paintings in the national museum that were destroyed when the Dominion left Cardassia Prime."

"Are you kidding me?" Gerron barked.

"No, why?"

"Don't you remember what they did to our people? How can you help them?"

"Haven't you heard what happened to them?" Celes challenged. "How can we not help them?" Gerron looked sullenly at his food. "I know some of the Cardassians did awful things to us. But that was the military. When the Dominion left, they started killing everyone and destroying everything. Not just military leaders, Gerron. Children."

"I'm sorry that happened to them," he said sincerely, "but that doesn't mean it's our responsibility to help them. They shouldn't have made an alliance with the Dominion in the first place."

Sharr gave him a sympathetic smile. "Celes has a point, Gerron. The children and civilians didn't make that alliance, and they certainly didn't ask for it to end."

"This is our chance to show them another way," Celes contended.

Gerron put his fork down with a clatter. "You sound like a Starfleet officer," he warned her.

Celes smiled. "I guess Captain Janeway's rubbed off on me."

Gerron waved to Tabor, who was sitting a few tables away. He came over to them. "What's going on?"

"Celes is thinking about going to Cardassia Prime on a cultural rescue mission," Sharr explained. "Because if the Bajorans show the Cardassians compassion, maybe it'll rub off on the Cardassians as they rebuild their society."

Gerron looked expectantly at Tabor, who, like him, had lost family at the hand of the Cardassians. Forgiveness in theory was one thing, but offering a helping hand to the enemy was something else. To his surprise, Tabor nodded. "Maybe we can help them make their society better. Something without such a strong military and a need to conquer other species."

"Tabor, do you want to come with me?" Celes asked. "I'm sure they'll be excited to have some former Maquis as a part of the group. It'll send a really positive message."

"I can't believe you're both considering this," Gerron spat. "You tried to kill a _hologram_ because he was Cardassian, Tabor."

"I know," Tabor sat, taking the seat beside him, "but that doesn't mean I want to see their entire planet devastated. Gerron, have you read the news reports? It wasn't just an occupation. It was annihilation. Nobody deserves that – not even Cardassians."

* * *

Harry had already talked to his parents and cousins several times, and he'd chatted with a few old friends. Once the subject of Libby Lipschitz came up a second time, this time with his old roommate George, Harry decided to contact her. After all, he'd once spent every night trying to teach himself how to go to sleep without her at his side. Certainly in the four years that Starfleet had no word of their whereabouts, she must have been worried. He owed it to both of them, he thought, to give them some kind of closure.

She had accepted his request for communication quickly, which made Harry uncertain of her motives. Did Libby also seek closure, or was she still hoping they could pick up where they'd left off? What would she think about how he had changed? Would she still be attracted to him? Would he be attracted to her?

She looked older than Harry remembered, and more subdued. But she was still familiar – too familiar – in the way her right eyebrow involuntarily raised and lowered as she spoke, in the cadence of her speech. Those small details that reminded him of how he'd once known her so intimately were unsettling.

"How's your first week on Earth going?" Libby asked.

Harry knew he couldn't give the real answer – that he was sleeping in a doorless cabin with a leaky roof on a rainy tropical island that was teeming with large insects. That he'd expected Voyager to fly triumphantly over the Golden Gate Bridge, but instead it was in spacedock and they were all holed up like prisoners of war. Nobody wanted to hear that reality; they wanted to hear the Voyager crew extol the virtues of returning to the Federation's blue jewel.

"It's going great," he said with false cheeriness.

"Hmm, I would have thought it would be a little rough. Isn't it the rainy season there? You must be covered in mosquito bites."

Harry's face cracked into a grin. "Actually, it rains every day at 1500. And the mosquitoes are awful, but Starfleet Medical programmed insect repellent into the replicators." He paused for a moment. "How are you doing?"

"If I said great, would you say you expected it to be rough?" She smiled. "The first few years were really hard. Then they told us you were alive, and that was hard. Now you're back –"

"And it's still hard." Harry was relieved at how easily their conversation flowed. Unlike everyone else he'd spoken to, she didn't seem to know what she wanted him to say; she seemed to want his honesty. He decided to give it to her. "I've been thinking a lot about what it must have been like for you, thinking we were dead. I hope you didn't wait too long to start dating again."

Libby nodded eagerly, displaying no false modesty on the subject. "Of course, I compare them all to you," she teased.

He was glad she was being candid, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous that she didn't seem to have had the same trouble moving on that he'd had. It had been well into Voyager's second year before he could think about another woman – and then they had all been unqualified disasters. "In that case," he joked back, trying to sound unimpressed, "I'm sure you don't date them for long."

Her expression changed, and Harry wondered if he'd gone a little too far. "Actually, Harry, the person I'm seeing right now – Josh – it's kind of serious."

"Oh?" he asked, willing his voice not to betray any emotion. _Not curiosity, not regret, not sadness, nothing – just follow her lead, and you won't embarrass yourself._

"Maybe some time you can meet him," she offered, her face relaxing a bit. "So what's on the schedule for today, man of leisure?"

_Okay, she's done talking about that._ "I was going to try to get Tom to go sailing, but I don't think he'll leave the baby."

"Who's Tom? There's a baby on the island?"

There were a lot of things about his life that she didn't know, and, it occurred to him, he was equally in the dark about hers. There might have been something familiar about her face and voice, but Libby was really a stranger.

"Maybe you can meet him some time," he said vaguely. As well as they were getting along, Harry had to admit that her life seemed in order, and his was (hopefully) going to be in order in another week or so. It didn't seem fair – or even necessary – to disrupt that. He wished her well and signed off, not really expecting to see her again, except maybe at the occasional cocktail party hosted by mutual friends.

* * *

"Glad to know you could brush me off so easily," Libby interrupted, glaring at her husband. She turned to Andrew and Miral. "The truth was that he'd had seven years of dating disasters, and he was jealous that I'd found someone else." She patted Harry on the chest. "Tell the story right, dear."

"Okay," he conceded, "I was disappointed, but we both knew it had been too many years."

"And what did you do in response?" she prompted.

"Libs, I'm not going to tell them about that."

"About what?" Andrew asked with immediate curiosity.

"You see," Libby jumped in, "like everyone else, your father was in a state of emotional confusion. His career wasn't in jeopardy, sure, but he was leaving his home and losing his friends – his family. So he indulged in a little escapist romance, like a lot of the crew."

Miral covered her mouth with her hand in shock. "Harry had an affair! With who?"

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Six**

"You look like someone who just lost his best friend," Ayala said, dropping beside Harry at the fire. "Or maybe it's two best friends and a baby?"

"_You're_ trying to cheer _me_ up?" Harry asked, resting his elbows on his knees. "Didn't you talk to your ex-wife today?"

Ayala nodded. "That's why I'm in a good mood. Just remembering why I don't want to be married to her."

Harry gave a small laugh. "How are your sons?"

Ayala sighed. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't weird. They're the same kids really – same idiosyncrasies – but they're almost grown up. I was looking forward to watching that happen. Now all I get are old holoimages." He let out another breath. "We should have a drink."

"The replicators only produce synthehol," Harry reminded him.

"Yosa's got some contraband," Ayala told him, rising and dusting off his pants.

"How did he get contraband alcohol on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?"

Ayala shrugged. "Once a Maquis, always a Maquis. We're resourceful people. You want something or not?" Harry nodded, and Ayala headed toward Yosa's cabin.

In his absence Ensign Michaela Jenkins settled beside Harry, sniffing lightly.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, pushing up her sleeves to combat the heat of the fire. "Just a rough day, talking to ghosts from the past."

"Tell me about it."

She took him at face value and began to recount a disastrous conversation she'd just had with an ex-lover. Harry, who always liked working the night shift with her at the helm, listened politely and began to realize his own sense of loneliness. He told her about his conversation the previous day with Libby and Josh – what kind of name was Josh, anyway? – and Jenkins listened patiently, nodding, sharing his mixed feelings over Voyager's return and their quarantine.

"I thought I had moved on," Harry said. "I know I wasn't one of the first to let go of home – hell, I was probably the last one of us, except Samantha Wildman and Tuvok – but I thought I had managed to do it. I was dating people and making new friends. But now we're back, and it's like –"

"It's like we're the ones who didn't move on, and the whole rest of the world has gotten seven years ahead of us," Jenkins finished.

Harry looked at her carefully. "Yeah." It came out as soft as a breath. Their eyes met for a long moment. "So how do we start catching up to them?" he asked carefully.

Jenkins didn't say anything for a long time. She held his gaze, and Harry noticed the deliberate rhythm of her breathing matched his own. After an electric minute passed, she said simply, "I have a few ideas." Harry nodded in agreement with her unspoken proposition.

Ayala never came back to the fire circle with their drinks. At least not before Harry and Jenkins had gone back to her cabin together.

* * *

"Mom, I really don't want to know about this," Andrew protested.

"And I really don't want you to tell him," Harry added. But Miral and Libby just looked at each other and laughed, not sharing any of the men's discomfort. "I'm glad you find my sex life funny."

"Lighten up, Harry," Libby scolded. "It was twenty-five years ago."

"I've met Commander Jenkins," Miral added. "She's cute. You have good taste."

"We should get back to the party," Harry declared a little gruffly. "People are probably looking for us." He took Libby's hand, and they moved toward the door together. "Son, are you coming?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

The ship's com system activated, alerting guests that Admiral Janeway and the museum curator would be speaking in the main shuttle bay in ten minutes. Although Andrew and Miral had seen little of the ship and still had not tried the twenty-fifth anniversary Voyager holoprogram, they made their way back to the makeshift reception hall.

The curator's speech dragged on, as he thanked the myriad of people who had helped with the planning of the museum. Tom Paris, who once again found his daughter in spite of the crowd, leaned down to whisper to her, "This guy blows any more hot air, and Voyager might become spaceborne again."

Miral stifled a laugh and was about to say something in return when the Doctor stepped toward them with a long-legged, long-haired brunette at his side. "Elina Abramowicz, this is my goddaughter Miral and her husband Andrew, Harry's son. And, of course, you remember Tom."

"I'm so excited to meet you," Miral whispered to Elina as they shook hands. "I absolutely love your designs." She tugged at her dress uniform. "When I get to wear regular clothing, that is."

"Admiral Janeway's speech," Andrew warned them.

The group fell silent as Janeway stepped up to the podium, looking at once decorous and at ease. "Twenty-five years ago, the Federation starship Voyager returned unexpectedly from a seven-year odyssey in the Delta Quadrant. Since then…"

Andrew leaned toward Miral. "This speech is a little bland, isn't it?"

"She's been busy with the coordination of the fleet to the Archanis sector," the Doctor informed them quietly.

"Hey, Doc, everyone's been telling us about life on Mariana Two," Miral whispered back. "What was going on here, on the ship?"

"Do you really think this is the best time?" Andrew criticized.

The Doctor glanced at the podium. He adored the admiral; she was one of his oldest and dearest friends. But Andrew was right. The speech was bland. And since Miral really wanted to hear him tell stories…

He looked at Elina. "Have I told you the story of what happened when Voyager arrived?"

"Not really."

A delighted smile etched across his face as he basked in their attention. "Well, the McKinley station crew was making their way from deck to deck, checking systems, downloading logs, completing a cargo inventory, and replacing old parts. The ship didn't look anything like this. Thank goodness B'Elanna wasn't around to see it. As a matter of fact, I was the only member of the crew left on board. And for some reason, no one had bothered to warn the McKinley crew about my special needs."

* * *

**USS Voyager, Docked at McKinley Station, 2378 – Day Five**

As the salvage crew worked their way through the cargo bay, they checked the inventory of hundreds of storage containers against the manifest the Voyager crew had submitted. There were no startling anomalies thus far, and Commander Karachi, in charge of the team, was certain they'd finish on schedule.

A container of salvaged Borg components, however, slowed them down.

Karachi had read the mission logs and knew that Voyager had had extensive interaction with the Borg, including taking on multiple former drones as passengers and integrating various elements of Borg technology into their own systems. He wasn't certain that he approved of either activity, but then again he knew that Captain Janeway's mission was different than his. Hers had been to keep the ship going at all costs; his was to keep a ship in mint condition at all costs.

Mint condition did not include integrating state-of-the-art bioneural circuitry with Borg technology.

Karachi sighed as he looked at the Borg components. "At least this stuff is in storage," he told the ensign who'd located the container. "Down in engineering they're still trying to figure out what the chief engineer did to the plasma flow regulators."

The young ensign held up an arm with a spinning tool at the end. "This is like something out of _Frankenstein_."

Karachi looked at him sharply. "Ensign, let's just stick to the job, okay? We can balk later. And put that thing away. It's creepy." He turned to two of his crew who looked as though they needed a task. "Ensign Coleman, you and Flint get down to Sick Bay and download all the medical logs. You'll also need to deactivate the emergency medical hologram. Apparently somebody activated it three days ago and never shut it off." They began to head for the cargo bay doors, and Karachi remembered something he'd been told in his briefing. "Oh, and, guys, apparently, we're supposed to be nice to him."

The two officers nodded but did not fully understand. Neither had even seen an EMH activated, much less one that had been left on for several days. The order to be nice to a medical hologram sounded as odd to them as if they had been given orders to sing and dance for it. When the doors to Sick Bay opened, they entered a little cautiously.

"I have been waiting for almost a week!" a bald-headed man in an old-issue uniform huffed. "Are you or are you not going to transport me to the surface?"

"Sorry, are you the EMH?"

"I suppose I am," he said, frowning. "Can you please tell me what is going to happen to me?"

"Somebody left you on," Coleman said.

"Yes," the Doctor said emphatically, "my autonomy protocols were removed, and my mobile emitter was confiscated."

"Mobile emitter?" Flint repeated. "Oh, that piece of technology? Yeah, it's at the holographic imaging research lab right now. They're trying to figure out how it works to see if they can make more of them. I think they're going to bring it back by the end of the week – or maybe send it to the Daystrom Institute, I'm not sure which."

"If they would ask B'Elanna, she could explain it to them," the Doctor said with alarm. "If they don't know how it works, they could end up damaging it."

"Who's B'Elanna?" Coleman asked.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor demanded, as he followed Flint into his office.

"Sorry you were left on for so long. We'll deactivate you."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Did you even read Lieutenant Torres' report?"

"Who's Lieutenant Torres?" Flint asked. "Karachi told us to deactivate you."

"Who's Karachi? I will not be deactivated on someone else's authority! Please tell me what's going to happen to me!"

"Okay, okay," Coleman said, confused by the hologram's non-compliance. "Take it easy. We'll get this sorted out." He tapped his com badge. "Coleman to Karachi."

"Go ahead."

"Sir, we're having a little trouble with the EMH. He refuses to be deactivated."

"How can he refuse to be deactivated?" came the confused reply.

The Doctor rolled his eyes again. "Didn't Reg Barclay or Lewis Zimmerman brief any of you?" he barked, approaching Flint. "I insist that you contact Captain Janeway at once!"

Flint backpedaled a few steps, just to be safe. He'd heard stories about holograms going amok. He'd always thought they were exaggerated legends, but then again one could never be too careful. "Hey, friend," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, "just calm down. Clearly there's been some kind of misunderstanding."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. Being treated like a maniac only added insult to injury. "If you had just read the files –"

"Commander," Coleman continued over the com, a watchful eye on the EMH, "we'd better contact Captain Janeway about this one."

"All right, Ensign. Stand by. Karachi out."

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Five**

"Captain Janeway," Jurot called, sprinting up to the captain's cabin. "There's an incoming transmission for you. It's from Voyager."

"Thank you," Janeway said, trying to avert her eyes from Jurot's nearly nude body. (Swimwear had certainly changed a great deal from the holodeck to Mariana Two.) She hurried across the complex to the main facility and took a seat in front of one of the com stations.

"Captain Janeway, I'm Commander Karachi, the head of the salvage crew. We're having some trouble with your emergency medical hologram."

"What sort of trouble?"

"He refuses to be deactivated."

Janeway couldn't help smiling. She could imagine the Doctor was giving the McKinley crew quite a hard time. "The Doctor hasn't been subject to anyone else's activation – or deactivation – for a long time," she explained.

"I see," Karachi said, but his voice indicated otherwise.

"We consider him to be a real person, and I've submitted a formal request for a hearing on the matter."

"You mean – you mean – he's an intelligent lifeform?"

Janeway was a little dismayed his crew hadn't been better prepared. What if they had accidentally damaged the Doctor's program? She began to wonder what else his crew was doing to her ship, and not for the first time since their arrival on Mariana Two, she began to feel out of control. "The Doctor is a beloved member of our crew. You should have a complete dossier on him with statements from me, my chief engineer, Jupiter Station, and Reginald Barclay of the Pathfinder Lab. Admiral Paris –"

"I'm sorry, Captain Janeway, but I'm under orders from Admiral Cabot to retrieve all logs and other invaluable data programs. Your EMH falls under that category."

"How?" she demanded.

"His program contains data that Starfleet Medical wants to review. We need to transfer him off Voyager."

"That same data," she pointed out, "could be obtained by debriefing him, just as the rest of us are going to be debriefed."

"How about a compromise?" Karachi proposed. "We can just make a backup copy of the program. Or we could leave the program but dump his memory files."

"Commander," Janeway said rather coldly, "how would you feel if someone just duplicated you for research purposes? Or emptied your brain of its memories? I want you to wait until I can speak with Admiral Cabot. That's an order."

Commander Karachi looked a little uneasy. "Uh, Captain Janeway, I was told that you are currently on inactive duty status. That means –"

"I know what that means, Commander. Janeway out." It meant she couldn't give any orders. She terminated communication, enraged, and tried to summon Admiral Cabot. He was unavailable, so she tried Paris next, hoping his personal relationship with Voyager could be of service.

"Captain, is there a problem?"

"Two very large problems, Admiral," she said, hearing the prickliness in her voice and not caring about it. "A member of my crew is being detained on Voyager, and his life is being threatened. Also, why was I not told that I am on inactive duty status?"

"I apologize for that oversight, Captain," he replied. "That was my mistake. You are all on inactive duty status until you are debriefed. Frankly, I fought hard against it, but I was ultimately outnumbered. As for this member of your crew, your manifest didn't show any missing parties."

"Admiral, it's the Doctor," she admitted, her voice lightening. She sighed wearily. "The commander of the salvage crew told me he has orders from Admiral Cabot to download him."

"I know how you feel about the Doctor, Captain," Paris said with a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure Tom must really care about him to make him my granddaughter's godfather. But there's not much else I can do for you. I've been told to step aside. Admiral Necheyev's orders. She thinks I'm too close to Voyager and wants someone more objective overseeing the project."

"Like Cabot," Janeway finished. _Someone with whom I have absolutely no personal history._ "He's not taking my calls."

"Mine either," Paris admitted. "I'm sorry, Captain."

* * *

"Captain, Harry said you wanted to see me?" B'Elanna asked with some confusion as she approached Janeway's doorway. Harry and Seven were already seated inside.

"Come in," the captain called, waving to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she answered immediately. Janeway gave her one of her patented looks. "All right. I'm going a little crazy. I think I managed to get an hour of sleep last night, when Miral finally cried herself out, and I'm starting to wonder how hard it would be to swim to Asia."

Janeway smiled sympathetically. "How would you like us to watch Miral for awhile while you go on a mission?"

"A mission?"

"A covert operations mission," Seven clarified.

B'Elanna looked around the cabin with confusion. "Captain?"

* * *

**USS Voyager – Day Eight**

"How are you holding up, Doctor?" B'Elanna asked genially she entered Sick Bay.

"B'Elanna! How did you get in here?" he asked with surprise.

B'Elanna held up an engineering kit. "We staged a little insurgency," she explained. "Captain Janeway managed to convince Admiral Cabot that if the interface between your mobile emitter and Sick Bay wasn't properly calibrated, your program would corrode if they tried to transfer you. And since I'm the only person in the entire galaxy – this century, anyway – who knows how to repair your mobile emitter, they let me leave the island to ensure you're safe." She snapped open the toolkit. "Computer, transfer the EMH's program to Sick Bay." The Doctor faded out of sight for a moment, then rematerialized. B'Elanna plucked the mobile emitter from his arm and began working on it. "You're lucky they gave this back to you."

"They only gave it back because they couldn't figure it out."

"Be grateful. Once you're at Starfleet Medical or Jupiter Station, they'll probably confiscate it again and ship it off to the Daystrom Institute for further study."

"A lot of good it does me," he grumbled. "The doors don't respond to my commands."

"Even if they did," she informed him, "there's a forcefield and two guards in the corridor."

"What are you doing?" the Doctor asked, watching her delicate work. "There's no interface between that and the holoemitters in Sick Bay. They're separate systems."

"I know, Doctor," she said with some exasperation. "But if the patients can't come to the Doctor, the Doctor can come to the patients." She paused and cocked her head. "Well, patient," she corrected. "You'll be able to talk to Seven now, through her interlink node, so you can keep in touch with the rest of us through her." She handed him the emitter, returned the tool to the kit, and closed the case with a definitive snap. "All set."

"Thank you," the Doctor said appreciatively. He gave a wistful smile. "It's been very lonely here without all of you."

Seeing his disconsolation, B'Elanna set the case down. "You know, nobody knows how long this repair will take. Why don't I stay here awhile and tell you what you've missed?"

* * *

"So did you communicate through Seven of Nine?" Miral whispered with one eye on the podium, where Admiral Janeway was still talking.

The Doctor nodded. "Thanks to your mother's deviousness, I was able to join the nightly campfire festivities."

The crowd in the shuttle bay applauded politely as Janeway stepped down from the dais. She was then enveloped by members of the press and various dignitaries, so the group turned to each other and continued the conversation in full voice.

"So what else happened before the debriefings started?" Miral asked. Tom took a very well-timed sip of champagne, B'Elanna raised her palms as if to fend off the question, and the Doctor frowned. "Well, come on."

"Hey, I don't know much about what went on," her mother said. "That little trip to Sick Bay was the only adventure I had. When I wasn't changing your diaper or cleaning your spit-up out of my clothing, I was trying to get some sleep. You cried all the time, kid."

"Sorry," Miral said with no trace of contrition.

"You were worth it," Tom told her. "And she's exaggerating. I did all the midnight feedings."

"Look, this is fascinating, really," Miral interrupted, "but what about the others? The interesting people who were actually doing things on the island?"

B'Elanna waved Harry over to them. "Harry can tell you what everyone else was up to. He was the social butterfly for those two weeks."

Harry thought for a moment. "I guess it was about the end of the first week when the press started reporting on our arrival. And, as I said, those conversations with old friends and family started weighing pretty heavily on our minds."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Seven**

His face looked worn for the years, and for a moment Kathryn Janeway considered that it was her fault – that the lines had etched more firmly and that the twinkle in his eyes had dimmed from the years he had spent wondering what had happened to her. When she saw his face like that, she understood why it had been so necessary for him to let her go, and she forgave him.

It was not a joyful reunion, nor was it hostile. It was bland. Neither of them really knew what to say, but they felt compelled to talk.

Mark started. "How have you been?"

The question was inane, and rather unanswerable. She'd gotten lost and then been abandoned by those she'd left behind – even though she had not left them by choice. She'd had great adventures with a fine crew. They'd nearly died on many occasions, but somehow she always kept both the ship and crew going. And, though she had always longed for home and never once abandoned the idea of getting there, she had discovered real contentment on Voyager. She had been the head of a family. The leader of a community. And now she was back, just another drop in an ocean of Starfleet officers, about to move on to the next phase, whether she was ready or not.

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine." They lapsed into silence. "When will they release you from quarantine?"

"In another week."

"Maybe you could come by the house for a visit," he suggested, none too sincerely. "I'm sure Lara would like to meet you."

_I somehow doubt that._ "I'd like to," Janeway said with equal insincerity. The conversation, she realized, was going to be full of those things one feels obligated to say when there are too many other things to really voice.

"You look well. Young."

"So do you." Now she was blatantly lying. He looked like hell. She wondered if he thought the same of her.

"Kathryn, I'm sorry about the way everything happened."

_Finally the real conversation. _"It's understandable. I'm happy for you and Lara. And a belated congratulations on the baby."

"He's two now, but thanks, Kath." Mark gave her an easy smile, and she tried not to wince at the nickname she'd always loathed. "Well, I'll let you get back to…whatever you're doing there."

_Absolutely nothing. Waiting around and feeling more powerless than I've ever felt in my entire life._ "All right," she said, managing a faint smile before terminating the link.

* * *

"And Asil?" Tuvok asked.

"She is well, as are all the children," T'Pel reported. "We anticipate your homecoming."

"As do I," Tuvok told her. He surveyed around the hall to ensure that he was alone. "T'Pel, I must confess to you that I experienced a neurochemical imbalance several months ago." It was an indecent topic of conversation, particularly in the very public environment of Mariana Two, but it weighed too heavily on his mind not to discuss.

"I am aware. Our mating bond has not been destroyed by the distance."

"Our ship's medic developed a holographic treatment," Tuvok explained.

T'Pel nodded. "You were fortunate to have such a resourceful medic, husband."

Tuvok nodded in return. His wife's propensity for logic made her as desirable a mate today as it had many years before. In the sea of emotional turbulence above which his mind existed, he began to sense a strong desire to return home to her.

* * *

Lieutenant Walter Baxter stepped out of the main facility of their compound and waved at those nearest. "Come in here!" he yelled. "You have to see this! It's the latest newsfeed!"

A few of his shipmates joined him at one of the communications terminals, where the planetary news featured a story about Voyager.

Listening to the rather sensational way Voyager's exploits in the Delta Quadrant were portrayed made Crewman Brian Sofin shake his head. "That's just ridiculous," he declared as their encounter with insurgent holograms was described. "How is the press even getting access to ship's logs? Is Starfleet giving this information out?"

"Harry Kim said his mother was teaching her students about us," Gennaro told them both. "Starfleet must have declassified a lot of our missions already."

"Well, they should try to control how the message is spreading," Sofin protested. "What do you think they're saying about the Equinox?"

Andrews looked at him, sharing his concern. "I don't know, Brian, but if I were you, I wouldn't exactly be looking forward to becoming a celebrity when we're out of here."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Ten**

"Do you want to go swimming?"

"No."

"Sailing?"

"No."

"Hiking?"

"No."

Icheb sighed. "Naomi, you're being difficult. What do you want to do?"

Naomi shrugged. "I want to leave this island. I'm bored here. We've done everything there is to do a million times."

"Perhaps we have spent too much time recreating," Icheb hypothesized. "Perhaps I should develop some school work for you. Your studies are probably falling behind."

"No, no, it's okay, really," Naomi said quickly. "Let's go for a hike."

Icheb nodded in agreement. "We can catalogue different species of birds we observe along the way." Naomi rolled her eyes as she followed him out of the compound.

* * *

Two years earlier, Tom Paris would have been apprehensive about having a conversation with his parents, especially his father. Now, with a wriggling newborn in his arms and his wife at his side, he looked forward to it. It had been a long road to get to where they were, and Tom knew there was still some distance to go before he and his father were truly comfortable with each other, and even farther before they could be friends. But he knew now that his father loved him and that all the tension and anger over the years had been the result of each of them trying to make the other into something he was not.

It had started with letters.

**_USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2374_**

_After Neelix's impromptu party, intended to cheer up the crew after the relay network went down, Tom headed toward B'Elanna's quarters. He was still feeling stunned at the sudden gain and loss of contact with his father – and he felt like a jerk for never asking B'Elanna what she'd meant when she had said that a lot of her friends were dead. She had only stayed at the party a few minutes, but in spite of her hasty departure she'd reminded him that he was supposed to come to her quarters._

_He rang the chime to her quarters, and she met him at the door. "Come in," she said huskily. She was out of uniform in a brown sleeveless dress, and her dining table was set with candles. Clearly she was expecting a romantic evening – a surprise to Tom, who'd expected them to spend the night talking seriously about the events of the day. And although she looked beautiful, he couldn't help feeling anything but drained._

"_Are you hungry?" she asked. He shook his head, so she led him to the sofa. "Still thinking about your letter?"_

"_Yeah," Tom admitted softly, tracing her cheek with the back of his forefinger. "And about Chakotay's. I heard the whole story in the mess hall. B'Elanna, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how you must feel right now."_

"_To be honest," she said, shifting ever so slightly away from him, "I don't really want to talk about it."_

"_Are you sure?" He didn't want to push her, but he suspected the slaughter of the Maquis would be something she'd need to talk about._

"_I'm sure," she replied a little more confidently. She leaned toward him and brushed her lips against his once, teasing him. Then she moved in to kiss him more fully._

_Tom's hands came to her shoulders, pressing her flush against him. He had a fleeting thought that she was trying to distract him – that it was a bad idea not to talk about the letters – but he couldn't stop his body from giving in. He would later come to regret that in his moment of weakness he could have prevented so much trouble for her, and for them._

**_USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2377_**

_He had forgotten about the letter, which was strange, given how important it had been when he wrote it. But now, two years later, it had gone through in the last datastream to Earth, and Harry was handing him what Tom could only presume to be a response. He looked at Harry nervously, but Harry just clapped him on the shoulder and continued down the corridor._

_Tom wondered if he should wait for B'Elanna to get off-duty, so they could read it together. But he remembered what he'd written about her in the previous month's datastream and decided against it. Keeping an even pace toward the mess hall, he activated the padd._

_"Son,_

_Your mother is letting me write this month, since the last letter we received was addressed to me personally. It was dated two years ago, and I hope you'll forgive this tardy response. First of all, I wanted to thank you for sharing your experience with me. As a Starfleet officer, I agree with Captain Janeway's decision to confine you to the brig. As your father, though – and I imagine you'll be surprised to hear this – I sympathize with you. _

_Your mother says you never understood how much I love you and how proud of you I always was. She says that's what your letter was really about. (She's a smart woman.) I think I pushed you too hard to be like me, and we both know we're nothing alike. You're a daredevil with a sense of humor and a passion for life. Those qualities might have been suppressed when you were cashiered from Starfleet, but they're still a part of you. From Captain Janeway's report to Starfleet Command, it sounds as though they may be returning. Perhaps you've found a place where you can be happy. That's all your mother and I want for you._

_If we were surprised to receive two letters last month, we were stunned at the news contained in the second. When you first told me about Lieutenant Torres, I thought you were once again getting tangled up with the wrong crowd. Just before I got your letter, I was at a meeting in which someone brought up Voyager. David Chapman was there, and he mentioned that B'Elanna Torres had been a promising student when she was at the Academy. Do you remember how difficult he can be? If Chapman and Captain Janeway think well of her, she must be something._

_Congratulations, son. I only wish your mother and I could have attended the wedding._

_I do have to admit that I never imagined you with a Klingon woman. Before you left Starfleet, I always pictured you with someone like Diane Jeffries."_

_Tom couldn't help laughing as he entered the mess hall. _

"_What's so funny?" He looked up to see the subject of the letter standing in front of him with her hands on her hips._

"_Hi," he said with a smile. It was a rare treat to get to eat lunch together. "Diane Jeffries."_

"_Who's Diane Jeffries?"_

"_Definitely not you."_

_B'Elanna took a cup of coffee from the serving counter. "That doesn't really answer my question."_

_Tom held up the data padd he'd been reading. "A letter from my dad in response to a letter I'd written about you." He watched her face quirk, knowing she'd hate being the subject of their long-distance conversation. As they settled at a table facing each other, he explained, "My dad congratulated us and then wrote that he always imagined I'd end up with someone like –"_

"_Diane Jeffries," B'Elanna finished. "So, what's she like?"_

"_Tall," Tom said. "Much taller than you. I didn't have to hunch over to kiss her." He hid a smile behind a sip of coffee as B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "She had this beautiful long blond hair, really straight and silky. And she was so sweet. I don't think she ever said an unkind word." He shook his head for dramatic flair. "What a woman."_

"_Very funny."_

_He grinned at her. "Actually, it's kind of nice to talk to my dad like this. I don't think we've had a real conversation since I was twenty-one."_

"_I'm glad," B'Elanna said with a smile of her own. She yanked the padd from his hand. "Now I want to know exactly what you wrote about me."_

"Here she is," Tom declared, propping Miral up as best as he could. It had become their near-daily ritual to share any small bit of information about Miral's development with his parents. Tom had easily fallen back into his old relationship with his mother: he exhibited boyish charm, and she doted on him. And he and his father were continuing to make progress, just as the letters had prompted.

It was B'Elanna who was the apprehensive one. She didn't quite seem to know how to connect to people who were literally relative strangers.

"I have never seen a more beautiful baby," Julia Paris gushed. Tom's face grew pink with pride. But B'Elanna, who had heard that particular observation every time Julia saw Miral, suspected that the same thing was said about the three other grandchildren in the family.

"She's a little genius, too," Tom bragged. "Last night I held up a map of Earth in front of her, and when I asked her to point to France, she did."

"That was just a coincidence," B'Elanna corrected. "Her foot kicked the padd."

"I'm sure she's smart. Probably takes after you," Julia teased, winking at her. B'Elanna felt herself blushing slightly, not sure how to take the compliment. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm ready to tear someone's head off," B'Elanna said through clenched teeth. _Really, B'Elanna, _she immediately reprimanded herself, _don't pretend to be nice on their account._ "I mean, I'm just a little frustrated –"

"I'd be ready to tear someone's head off, too," the admiral interrupted, letting her off the hook. "I hear your cabins don't even have doors?"

"Nope," Tom told him. "So you can imagine how fun it is when you're getting dressed in the morning."

"It's really not that bad," B'Elanna said, still trying to atone for her earlier outburst. "We all lived in tight quarters together on Voyager."

"What are you planning to do today?" Julia asked them.

Tom grinned. "Naomi and Icheb found a monkey in the forest, so Miral and I are going to go with them to check it out."

"Baby's first wildlife expedition," B'Elanna chimed in.

"It's good talking with both of you," Tom said seriously. "We'll talk again tomorrow?" His parents nodded and signed off. He turned to B'Elanna. "What was all that 'we all lived in tight quarters' business?"

B'Elanna fumbled slightly. "I didn't want them to think I was complaining. I mean, I said I would tear someone's head off, but they don't know that I didn't mean it."

"B'Elanna, just be yourself around them. Don't worry about what they think of you."

His wife snorted in his face. "_You're_ saying that to _me_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the one whose entire life has been defined by whether or not you had your father's approval."

"Oh, it must be 1500," Tom snipped, rising from his seat in front of the com panel. "It's starting to rain, and we're having a fight."

"We do not have a fight every day at 1500," she argued.

"What was it yesterday? Oh, yes, you didn't like the way I put Miral's clothes away."

"I just told you to refold them. That wasn't a big deal."

"So now when I get upset about something it's not a big deal?"

B'Elanna nearly growled in frustration. "Don't put words in my mouth, Tom. I'm just saying that it's easy for you to tell me not to care what they think. You're not the one who has in-laws." She looked at their daughter, in Tom's arms, and caught herself. "I'm tired; you're tired. Why don't we just give each other an hour or two apart, okay?"

"Fine with me."

* * *

"Anybody want to go sailing?" Ensign Doug Bronowski asked as he looked at a group of his shipmates, lazily sitting around a dead fire.

"What I want," Ensign Carla Swinn replied languidly, "is to get off this island."

"I've been thinking about that," said Ensign Freddy Bristow, sitting up. "I might have an idea."

"I'm all ears," Swinn told him. Bronowski sat down beside him with a nod.

"We can go swimming and sailing without any interference from those two guards, right? So why don't we all just get into one of the sailboats and head out of here. Nobody's doing headcounts. I'll bet it'll take them a couple of days to notice we're missing."

Bronowski rose with a shake of his head.

"That's a great idea, Freddy," William McKenzie declared. "Where exactly do you think we could go?"

"I'm a pretty good sailor," Bristow boasted. "I'll bet I could get us to Cambodia."

"Sure," McKenzie goaded, "and the others, who wouldn't fit in the boat, could just swim." He shook his head at Swinn and Bronowski, and they started laughing.

"You're an idiot, Fred," Swinn informed him. "We're not lost in the Delta Quadrant anymore. This is _Earth_."

"Why don't you think there are more guards here?" Bronowski asked.

Bristow shrugged. "Because they don't expect us to escape. That's why we have to take our chances."

"No, it's because they know they could find us in two seconds if we left the island," Bronowski argued. "The naval patrol would immediately stop an unidentified boat, for one. And if you did manage to get to Cambodia, what would you do there? You can't live a clandestine life on Earth. Besides, you'd be destroying your career just by violating the quarantine. That's why they don't have many guards on us."

"Yeah, they know the Starfleet officers won't risk losing their commissions," Swinn added.

Bristow looked dejected. "So we just have to sit here and wait?"

McKenzie nodded, giving the young man a fatherly pat on the back. "And wait, and wait."

* * *

To quell the restlessness he saw taking over the crew, Ensign Pablo Baytart had formed a gambling ring. Bets were placed on who would pair off with whom. Many of the crew had wagered, and more than a few bets were paying off.

Baytart ambushed Harry as he walked from the main facility to his cabin. "Harry, are you in today? Mendez and Wildman – the odds are seventy-five to one."

"Mendez and Wildman?" Harry asked incredulously. "That will never happen. And, no, I'm not in. For god's sake, her child is here." Though he had scratched an itch with Jenkins – which he hoped hadn't been a part of any gambling pool – Harry didn't understand what had happened to his friends. Gambling on each other's dalliances seemed un-Starfleet and, more importantly, a little twisted.

"Don't take it personally," Baytart called after him. "How about Jenny Delaney and Rollins?"

Harry shook his head as he stepped into his cabin. "That one's old news, Baytart. You need to update your pool."

As Baytart punched a few notes into his contraband data padd, he felt a hand coming down on his shoulder. He turned nervously, sighing with relief when he saw it wasn't the captain, Chakotay, or Tuvok. It was Megan Delaney.

"I think you and I need to have a little talk," she said sternly. "If you want to keep running bets, that's your prerogative. I'm not going to tell anyone. But you keep my sister out of it."

"Look, Megan, it's just a little harmless fun. Anyway, aren't you glad to have a cabin all to yourself now?"

"Who I share my cabin with is none of your business."

"It's pretty hard for anyone to keep anything private when none of us have doors," he argued.

"I mean it, Baytart. Nobody with the name Delaney on that padd – or it goes into the Pacific." She turned and headed toward her sister. It was true that Jenny was now constantly in Rollins' company, and Megan missed her. But she was glad her twin had found someone who made her happy. She only hoped he had honorable intentions. "Jen, what do you think Magnus wants from you?"

Jenny frowned. "I'm not sure. We haven't really had 'the talk' yet. Why?"

Megan sighed. "Because you're in Baytart's gambling pool."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Eleven**

"Jenny, we have to talk," Magnus Rollins called, trotting after her.

"There's nothing to talk about," Jenny Delaney declared as she walked down the beach as fast as her feet could manage on the sand. "You clearly intend to go back to…whoever she is, so you and I have nothing more to say to each other."

She was kicking up a lot of sand in her haste, and Rollins was having a hard time keeping it out of his face as the wind blew. "Come on, Jen, it's going to start raining again. Let's go back to camp." He managed to grab her arm, but she jerked it away from him and rubbed the spot he'd touched while glaring at him venomously. "If you would just listen to me, I could explain to you that she's an old girlfriend, and, yes, it was nice seeing her and talking to her, and maybe I liked flirting with her a little –"

"Oh, please, Ryson had clean your drool off the com panel."

Rollins licked his lips a little, trying to not to laugh. Jenny Delaney was such a jealous, possessive creature – and so needlessly, as far as he was concerned. "Okay, I was flirting, but I have no intention of going anywhere." He looked up at the sky, which was darkening with alarming speed. "Can we please go back to my cabin?"

"So we can make mad, passionate love right before you leave me?" She put her hands defensively on her hips, which gave him a better view of her in her swimsuit. She realized he was eyeing her, though, and quickly threw her arms across her body. "What was that on Voyager, Magnus? In the airponics bay? Maybe I'm old-fashioned, or just naïve, but I thought that was special."

"It was," he assured her.

"Then why have you been such a jerk the last few days?"

Her arms dropped to her sides, and Rollins decided to take the risk of stepping closer to her. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her close, and she let him. "I didn't know I was being a jerk, Jen. I'm sorry."

"What do you want, Magnus?" she asked, her voice still demanding but several decibels softer.

"I want to stay with you," he said. "I don't know what's going to happen to us, or whether or not we'll get reassigned to different places, but I want to be with you."

"I want to stay with you, too."

"Then will you marry me?"

"What? Are you serious?"

Rollins nodded. "I'm completely serious."

"We've only been together ten days," Jenny said with trepidation.

"Look, I've known you for seven years, and I've been in love with you for a long time." Rollins grinned, ready to deliver the icing on the cake. "Your sister already gave me her approval."

Jenny's face burst into a smile, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Yes, I'll marry you," she said, crushing herself against his body and kissing him.

"Good," he said, holding her tightly, "because I think Hickman had a lot of money wagered on your answer."

* * *

When the afternoon rains cleared, Seven of Nine once again laid out a picnic on the beach for dinner. As Chakotay knelt on the red and white blanket she'd spread across the sand, he had to warn her, "You're going to spoil me if you keep this up."

Seven smiled. "I trust that means I have pleased you."

"Oh, yes," he readily admitted, accepting a glass of synthehol wine from her. "This must be why I couldn't find you all afternoon."

Seven poured herself a glass, mischievously appreciating the deleterious effects it would have on her. The first time she had gotten "intoxicated," she found the feeling unsettling. With Chakotay, though, she had learned to trust the warm feeling that washed over her body, to appreciate how the synthehol heightened her desire for him. He was always steady; it was safe to let go a little bit with him. And, she noticed, his pupils dilated more after she had had a glass of wine. It would seem that her lack of control "turned him on." They clinked glasses, and she took a slow sip, eyeing him over the rim of the glass. "I came by your cabin earlier, but you and Lieutenant Torres were having a conversation that looked private."

"She and Tom have been coming up with contingency plans," Chakotay explained, though he didn't really think Seven was the jealous type. "What will happen to Miral if Tom is sent back to the penal colony, or if B'Elanna isn't allowed to stay in Starfleet, or if neither of them is."

"They should not expend energy worrying about those kinds of things," Seven said as she began pulling various items of food out of the picnic basket. "Captain Janeway will not allow anything adverse to happen to this crew."

Chakotay nearly rolled his eyes. Seven was incredibly intelligent, but there were some things about which she was just ignorant. Most of the time he found it endearing, but that she didn't see how worried many of her shipmates were about the coming weeks was downright obnoxious – as was her unflagging belief that Janeway could fix all. "I don't know if you've realized it or not, but Captain Janeway isn't the judge and jury anymore. She can only help us so much."

Seven looked sharply at him, finding a slight harshness behind his eyes. She was unaccustomed to the tone of voice he had used and blinked a few times to process it, finding the moment altogether unpleasant. "You did not say what Lieutenant Torres decided."

"She asked me if I would be Miral's guardian if anything happens to them."

"What was your answer?"

"I told her yes." Chakotay watched carefully as Seven restrained herself from exhibiting any emotion, though the slight twitching above her ocular implant told him that she was equally surprised and concerned. "It's just a hypothetical scenario, Seven. It doesn't mean I'm uprooting my life." He took her hand. "I still plan to be with you."

"I somehow doubt that Lieutenants Torres and Paris would appreciate me being a part of their infant's life."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Chakotay said seriously. "You're smart and hard-working, and you've done a tremendous job with Naomi and Icheb. I can think of plenty of people who would make a worse parent than you."

With the same professional reserve she used to discuss stellar phenomena at morning briefings, Seven asked, "Are you attempting to have 'the talk' with me?"

"'The talk'?"

"Ensign Delaney told me that all couples eventually discuss whether or not they foresee a future together, as a way of determining their compatibility and the nature of their relationship."

Chakotay tried not to laugh. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but she was so charmingly academic about romance that he couldn't help smiling. "Seven, since we started seeing each other, all we've done is discuss our future. It's unusual for a couple to do that at this early stage in a relationship," he explained gently.

But she wasn't finished. "Ensign Delaney also explained that the conversation often determines whether or not a couple intends to procreate." She looked at him, her piercing blue eyes demanding an answer.

Chakotay took his time swallowing a mouthful of wine. "I'd say we're a little far away from that."

"Agreed."

It took all Chakotay's self-control not to let out a sigh of relief. He knew that dating Seven would come with its unique challenges, but the unpredictability with which she broached intimate subjects was perhaps the toughest to adjust to. He was glad when she let the conversation drop. He picked up his fork and tried to enjoy the rest of their evening together.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway sat in her cabin, watching the last few drops of rain plop to the muddy ground. Across the compound she saw Chakotay heading toward the beach. A few minutes earlier, she had seen Seven moving in the same direction with a large food storage container. _Another picnic, no doubt. That's the third night in a row she's prepared a picnic for him. Doesn't she have any other ideas for romantic dinners?_

_Kathryn, _she silently reprimanded herself,_ you shouldn't be criticizing her. You should be proud of her. Isn't this what you wanted? You wanted her to be human – and now she is. Now she's even in love. The greatest human emotion._

Janeway sighed, shaking herself slightly, and rose from the chair. Puttering around her cabin, feeling sorry for herself wasn't how she wanted to spend the rest of the day. The trouble was that she couldn't concentrate on anything productive. And even if she could, she didn't really have any reason to be productive. There were no longer stacks of reports awaiting her approval, no logs to enter and review, no orders to give. She was supposed to be wasting time.

But every time she tried to let herself relax, she was flooded with too many emotions to keep track of: guilt, powerlessness, fear, apprehension, jealousy, concern. Most notably, loneliness.

_There's always Tuvok. He's never once denied you his company._

_Or Harry. _

_No, he's young. He's probably off somewhere having fun. You don't want to spoil it by making him stand at attention for you._ For try as they might to be friends, she and Harry would always be captain and officer.

_Tom and B'Elanna? They're probably busy with the baby. _

_Maybe I could do something with Naomi?_

_Okay, now you're just getting desperate. Leave them alone, Kathryn._

A hot, humid wind blew through the cabin, and she stripped down to her tank top. It seemed that all they did on Mariana Two was sweat, swim, and sleep. She climbed on top of her mattress, pushing the blankets to the floor – it was too sticky out for even a sheet – and wondered if 1800 was too early for bedtime.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Eleven**

"So, did my granddaughter get to see her first primate yesterday?" Owen Paris asked from the com screen.

"No," Tom had to admit, "we hiked in the woods for about a half an hour before it started pouring rain. So we did something equally exciting – we both took a nap."

The admiral grinned.

"Dad," Tom said, suddenly serious, "we're getting a little nervous here. Can you tell us anything – anything at all – about what we can expect from the debriefings?"

Owen Paris set his shoulders. "You mean, should you be getting ready to wear an ankle monitor again? I don't know, son. They're keeping me in the dark. They said my job was to get Voyager back, and now I'm too close to know much about what's going to happen."

"What about the Maquis?" Tom asked, rubbing the small of B'Elanna's back. Her spine tensed under his hand.

"I don't know," his father said again. "Any Maquis who weren't killed by the Jem'Hadar are in prison. It doesn't seem fair to grant a pardon to the Voyager crew. No offense, Lieutenant."

"None taken, Admiral," B'Elanna replied.

* * *

Their conversation with the Parises left Tom and B'Elanna feeling a little uncertain. The daily newsfeeds had begun to speculate on why the Federation Council had yet to formally congratulate the Voyager crew on their return; many assumed that the diplomatic oversight signaled trouble ahead. And Admiral Paris's reminder about the fate many of her Maquis friends had suffered several years earlier filled B'Elanna with a very old sense of guilt.

Back in their cabin they lapsed into melancholy silence while Harry, the only one who still felt like talking, played with Miral on their bed. "Come out to the campfire," he urged as he rubbed Miral's tummy. She kicked her hands and feet in happiness. "Everyone misses you."

Across the room B'Elanna collapsed into a chair. "Harry, we go through this every night."

"I know," Harry said. "But can you blame me for trying?"

"Don't you get it?" she challenged quietly. "Everybody else is dead. They're never going to sit around campfires." Her voice didn't sound angry or impassioned, just defeated. Harry hadn't heard her sound like that since her depression. "And for what? Have you read what happened to the Cardassians after we disappeared? It's like everything the Maquis fought for was meaningless."

"It wasn't meaningless," Harry argued gently. He looked to Tom for support, wondering why he wasn't the one offering the consoling advice. Tom sprawled out on the other side of the bed with an exhausted groan and let Miral grasp one of his fingers with her fist. "We're having a talent show tonight," Harry told them both.

B'Elanna laughed softly. "I thought you were trying to give us reasons to go out, not stay in."

Her laughter made Harry believe it wasn't a lost cause. He turned to Tom, hoping to see some of his friend's gregariousness resurface. "You could use a little fun."

Tom looked down at his finger, which Miral had completely covered in drool. "Only if you play your saxophone," he relented.

"Done."

* * *

Tom and B'Elanna kept their word, though Harry suspected it was only because he'd gone to their cabin to fetch them. With Miral in his arms, he led them to the campfire, where they settled together on one of the logs around it.

After a few minutes, Susan Nicoletti approached them, taking a seat beside B'Elanna. "Lieutenant? Do you have a minute?"

"I'm not a lieutenant anymore, Sue," B'Elanna reminded her, staring at the fire.

Nicoletti ignored the comment and the artificially casual way in which it had been uttered. "I just wanted to tell you that you were a really great crew chief. I know some people liked to talk about your temper, but you got the job done – and it was always done right – and you pushed us, but never more or less than you should have. I learned a lot from you. You were a good leader. I just thought you should know."

B'Elanna had had her shields raised against any potential emotional outburst that could come from her junior and her once rival, so she was unprepared for this great compliment. "Thank you," she said with surprise.

Nicoletti smiled, nodded, and moved away.

Tom heard the exchange and knew it was the kind of thing B'Elanna would never talk about with him later. He also thought it was probably exactly what she needed to hear. He rubbed the small of her back while he continued to debate with Harry whether Miral's ears looked more like his or B'Elanna's.

* * *

Chakotay took a deep breath, wondering if he was making the right decision. Neelix would have been the best person for the job, or the Doctor, but, of course, neither of them was around. Tom would have done – she'd always had a soft spot for him – but he was absorbed in his own problems. And Harry had a big enough job worrying about Tom. Tuvok, though frequently her counsel, was all wrong for this particular task. Seven of Nine probably would have been a good substitute, but she was adamant that he and the captain work out whatever was happening between them. Somewhere inside he knew she was probably right.

He took a breath before calling out her name and stepping across the threshold to her cabin.

She was settled in an armchair with a bound book, and she looked up with surprise when she heard his voice. "Chakotay? I didn't expect to see you. I thought you'd be around the fire."

"I was," he said, taking a few steps further inside, "but then I decided to come here to ask you to join us tonight." She didn't need to know it had been at Seven's urging.

"I don't think so." She held up her book. "I'm only halfway through, and I thought I'd finish before I go to bed."

Chakotay sighed and took a moment to collect himself. They were both dancing around the obvious, and one of them was going to have to break the pattern. "Kathryn, what are you doing?" She looked up at him, as though she didn't understand what he meant, but he wasn't fooled. He took another step toward her. "You've been hiding in here since we arrived when you should be celebrating. We spent seven years trying to get home, and we made it. You should be enjoying your success."

"Some success," she said more to herself than to him.

"If you're worried about the crew," he said gently, "the best way to show them is to join them. Show your support."

"By doing what? Sitting around a fire like Neanderthals? I had enough of that on Hanon IV." She scoffed a little. "Hanon IV – who did we lose there? Hogan…and Lyman. We almost lost Naomi and Kes, too, as I recall."

Chakotay ventured closer, taking a seat in the chair opposite her. "Is this really about the dead?"

"I'm responsible for the lives of those who didn't make it back."

"I know you are, Kathryn, but you can't abandon your duties to those of us who are still living."

She set the book down on the table with a thud. "You can't have it both ways. Either you tell me this is vacation and I need to recreate, or I'm the captain and I have duties to my officers. You used to be a lot better at making a case, Chakotay."

He watched her pace the room with one hand on her hip and the thumb and forefinger of the other at the bridge of her nose. He wished their connection hadn't been broken; he could no longer tell what she was thinking and feeling, how best to reach her.

"I don't like feeling helpless," she admitted finally.

"If you're upset about this quarantine, why not just think of it as time to adjust?" he suggested.

"Oh, no, you're going to get off with a little cheap philosophizing." She waved a finger at him as she sat down again. The edge in her voice had faded. "Have you talked to your family? Your sister?"

"Several times. You?"

Janeway nodded. "Do you know what I realized? They don't really know me anymore – not the way you all know me. Everyone on Voyager is my family, Chakotay, and soon we'll all be going our separate ways."

He leaned toward to her in order to reach her hand. "That comes with the job, we all know that. And there's no reason to think going our separate ways is going to make us stop being a family."

Janeway looked down at the hand he was holding, and Chakotay, fearing she didn't want him to touch her, immediately released it. "The truth is," she said quietly, "I would love to join everyone at the fire."

"We'd love to have you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. To be honest, I think it will relieve everyone. They've been worried about you." He raised his eyebrows at her a little suggestively. "It's Talent Night."

"Oh, no," she protested, laughing, but she rose to her feet anyway.

Chakotay grinned, too, as he followed her out, pleased that they were recovering some of their familiar ground.

* * *

At the campfire, though, Janeway's laughter quickly subsided when Chakotay left her side to join Seven. She summoned her best brave captain face and took the nearest empty seat, next to Lydia Anderson. She was, after all, not just there because of Chakotay; she was there for herself, and for the whole crew. As she looked around the dim circle, she realized the entire senior staff was present and was glad she'd let Chakotay persuade her into coming, even if he wasn't at her side.

"It's good to see you out here, Captain," Anderson greeted her.

"I understand it's Talent Night, Ensign. Will you be showcasing any special skills?"

"I think I'll leave that up to the more outgoing crew members." Anderson nodded her head toward the opposite side of the fire, where Baytart was juggling coconuts. With one final high toss, he caught the last one behind his back, and his shipmates applauded politely.

"Who's next?" Culhane called.

"Let's play," Harry said with a nod to his bandmates. They walked over to the assortment of instruments they'd previously laid out and struck up a jazz tune.

Janeway tried to focus only on the music and how it made her feel. She smiled and tapped her feet to the rhythm.

Anderson leaned closer and whispered, "Jenny Delaney and Magnus Rollins got engaged."

"I didn't even know they were involved," Janeway whispered back.

"Rumor is that Tabor and Jor will be engaged before we leave here," Kashimuro Nozawa added from her other side. "And Gerron and Sharr are getting pretty serious."

Janeway regarded the two gossips. "Thanks for keeping me apprised, Crewmen." Chakotay was right; she had clearly missed a lot in the lives of her so-called family members.

When the Kim-tones finished playing, Tuvok rose. Janeway couldn't help but notice a quiet groan coming from those seated around her.

"I have composed a lyrical poem in forty verses," he announced, "that completely subscribes to the Dictates of Poetics of T'Hain of Vulcan." He raised an eyebrow. "All in all, a most efficient use of my free time on this island." He paused, ready to begin, and then stopped. He cocked his head. "However, I will not be reciting that poem tonight." Like an expert orator, Tuvok paused for another moment to let the audience express its shock. "I have carefully observed this crew over the past seven years," he continued, "and I am aware that Vulcan poetry is not a common interest among you. For that reason, I have asked Mr. Ayala to assist me in preparing something more suitable to your tastes." He cleared his throat, eyes fixed straight ahead, mouth set in determination. "Knock knock," he began.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, The Presidio, 2403**

"Reminiscing about old times?" a familiar voice called, interrupting the story. The group turned as one to find Admiral Janeway standing behind them. A round of greetings ensued, after which the admiral resumed her initial query. "Well, just what could you be talking about that is so engrossing?"

"We were just saying that you made a lovely speech," the Doctor answered gracefully.

"Your ethical subroutines must be malfunctioning. You're lying to me," she said, playfully chucking him on the cheek. "It was a terrible speech."

"Miral and Andrew were asking about Voyager's quarantine on Mariana Two," Tom explained. "We were just talking about the talent show we had that one night."

The admiral laughed and draped an arm around Tom's shoulder. "Do you remember that tap dance Freddy Bristow performed?"

"I want to know how you got a Vulcan to tell knock-knock jokes," Andrew cut in.

"It was Ayala," Harry explained. "He and Tuvok had a special relationship."

* * *

After the talent show, many of the crew returned to their cabins, though some remained around the fire, roasting marshmallows and singing songs. Tuvok had every intention of returning to his cabin to meditate – the chaotic merriment of Talent Night had caused waves of turbulence in the tranquil sea of his mind – but he knew he must first express gratitude toward his former security officer.

"Mr. Tuvok," Ayala greeted him genially. "Take a seat."

Tuvok settled on a log next to Ayala, his back ramrod-straight. "I wish to thank you for your efforts this afternoon. The crew seemed to enjoy my imbecilic jokes far more than my prior recitations of Vulcan poetry."

"I'm glad you took my advice," Ayala said honestly, unconcerned that Tuvok considered his sense of humor "imbecilic." They'd worked together long enough for Ayala to know Tuvok meant no offense. "I didn't think you cared much whether or not the crew enjoyed your…talents."

"While I continue to believe there are more important things to do with one's time than practice clever wordplay, I have observed over the years, Mr. Ayala, that your advice is frequently worth taking."

Ayala turned to look at him, processing what he was saying for a moment, genuinely touched. When Chakotay had first recommended him to the security team, both he and Tuvok had been a little dubious about the arrangement. Over the years Ayala had learned a lot from Tuvok; he had come to appreciate Tuvok's training, discipline, and mentorship. And, in a roundabout way, it now seemed that Tuvok had come to appreciate his.

* * *

Before Harry could continue the story, Admiral Janeway gave the group her best diplomatic smile. "Well, if you'll excuse me, there are some other people I need to speak to, and the night isn't getting any younger." She patted Tom and the Doctor, the two standing the closest to her, on their shoulders and turned to leave.

"Admiral," Harry called abruptly. "The Rhode Island leaves on Monday. Why don't we have breakfast together some time before then?"

"That's a great idea," his wife added. "Admiral?"

Janeway considered the offer for a moment. "That sounds nice. I'll contact you tomorrow to sort out the details. Elina," she added to the Doctor's companion, "it was nice meeting you. Good night, everyone."

They watched her walk away in silence until the Doctor said quietly, "I wonder what that's all about."

"She's busy," Andrew said with a shrug. "She's probably tired from having to talk to so many people tonight."

"I don't think so," Tom disagreed with a shake of his head. "Admiral Janeway is a master of Starfleet social functions. She's worse than my father when it comes to hobnobbing."

"We're bringing up ghosts of the past," Harry surmised. "It probably makes her feel uncomfortable." He turned to Miral and Andrew. "When Voyager got back, every decision she had made, every mission she had sent us on was scrutinized. If I were Admiral Janeway, I wouldn't want to think about it after all these years."

"Hmm," was all the Doctor would say in response.

Miral let out a breath. "I hope she's not keeping secrets. I really hate secrets."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Fourteen**

"I really hate secrets," B'Elanna said, taking a seat at one of the tables in the main hall. She took a long, slow sip of coffee. "Come on, Chakotay, you must know something."

He dropped into the seat opposite her. "Sorry, I got the same message you did – to be here at 0800." He waved his coffee mug toward Tom. "She's spitting up."

"What? Oh." Tom grabbed a cloth from the table and nestled it between Miral and his shirt with one hand. "And here I thought I was done with morning briefings."

"No one ever made that promise to you, Mr. Paris," the captain called out as she entered the hall. She took a commanding position at the head of the table. "Seven, do we have the Doctor?"

Seven was silent for a moment. "Yes, Captain. He says this is the most exciting thing that's happened to him since we disembarked."

"That tells us everything we need to know about what happens when Chakotay and Seven are alone," Harry said quietly to Tom, who bit down hard on his lip to keep from laughing. He immediately busied himself with his daughter, and Harry focused on his hands folded in his lap, only daring to glance up to see if Seven and Chakotay had heard him. If they had, neither showed it. But B'Elanna had, and she kicked him under the table.

"Thank you all for coming this morning," Janeway said. "I know you're no longer technically my senior officers and that none of us is officially on duty. But the crew still respect and look up to you. I'd like you to talk with your teams about their plans. I want to meet with everyone today." She sighed, resting a hand on her hip. "I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'd like to do whatever I can to make sure everyone gets their desired outcome from this experience."

* * *

They spent the day taking stock – determining who wanted to stay in Starfleet and who wanted a job in the civilian sector. After two weeks of swimming, hiking, playing volleyball, getting rained on, sleeping with each other, and sitting around the fire, it felt good to begin to plan for the future. When Starfleet Headquarters sent down its debriefing schedule, there was a noticeable easing of anxiety. At least they would soon know their fates.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Fourteen**

"The first schedule of debriefings," Harry announced, waving a padd as several officers congregated around him. "Captain Janeway starts, and then Chakotay, Tuvok, B'Elanna, me…" When he finished, he looked up. "I'm sorry, Tom. You're not supposed to come tomorrow. Neither are you, Seven."

"I guess someone has to watch the baby," Tom said. He looked at Seven. "Join me for a swim tomorrow?"

"You're first," Chakotay said redundantly to Janeway.

She nodded. That was what she had expected, and she knew that she would also be finished last – once the others were all attended to and had sufficiently supplied headquarters with whatever information about her command they deemed necessary in their assessment of her. She expected to be condemned for destroying the Caretaker array (and thus starting the whole odyssey) or promoted to admiral for her heroics – or, more likely, if Admiral Paris's hint two weeks ago was any indication, both. "I think it's time to start meeting with the crew," she said without realizing she was still giving orders.

"I'll arrange it," Chakotay graciously agreed.

* * *

Faced with the reality of their debriefings and the end of their quarantine on Mariana Two, Jenny Delaney realized that she and Magnus Rollins had been hasty in deciding to marry. She was definitely in love with him, she was sure of that, but she wasn't necessarily sure she was ready to make her life fit around someone else's. Had they gotten married on Voyager, it would have been a lot easier. Relatively little would have changed, except their quarters. But now that they were back in the Alpha Quadrant, she was looking at a reassignment if she chose to continue in Starfleet. There were suddenly a lot more details to consider when making a big life change.

She approached the subject as delicately as she could after Harry Kim read the debriefing schedule for the following day. "Magnus, you know, we'll probably be called tomorrow, since we're junior officers. I'm guessing they'll call the noncoms after us. So maybe we should think about what we want to happen."

"Tuvok told me the captain wants to meet with everyone to talk about their plans," he told her. "Didn't Seven say anything to you?"

"No," Jenny admitted. "Maybe she hasn't gotten around to it yet. Well, what are you going to tell the captain?"

"I was going to ask you the same question."

He looked tense, and Jenny understood that he was thinking the same thing she was. "Just because we said we wanted to get married doesn't mean it has to happen tomorrow."

He peered at her. "Are you thinking we should take separate assignments?"

"I don't think we'll have much of a choice."

"How will our relationship work?"

Jenny shrugged. "We can arrange shore leave together. And send each other communiqués. It won't be the same as being on Voyager together, but –"

"But maybe it'll give us a chance to see if we're really as serious about this as we think?"

Jenny nodded with a relieved smile. "It was kind of sudden."

Magnus grinned, taking her hand in his. "Ten days was a little fast," he agreed. "I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you, Jen."

"The way I see it, if we're supposed to be together, it'll work out."

Magnus groaned audibly. "If this is your way of letting me down easy, just say so."

"No way," she said definitively. "I'm still going to kick your butt if I catch you talking to anyone else on subspace."

"It'll be hard to catch me if we're not on the same ship."

"I'm a very resourceful person." She held out her hand for a shake. "Separate assignments, shared shore leave, keep seeing each other, but give it some more time?"

Magnus shook her hand, sealing the pact. "Deal."

* * *

When Naomi returned from lunch in the rec hall, Samantha Wildman was waiting for her in their cabin. "Naomi, sit down," she instructed. With a look of slight trepidation on her face, Naomi did as she was told. "I got a message from your father today," Samantha explained. "He won't be able to make it to Earth in time to meet us after the debriefings. He and I made a decision."

"What?" Naomi asked, a little breathlessly.

"After the debriefings you and I are going to take a civilian transport to Ktaris. Your father and I are going to request leaves of absence, and we're all going to spend some time together."

"We're going to Ktaris?"

Samantha nodded. "You've seen Earth – well, part of it – so we thought it would be good for you to see your other home. Besides, it's halfway between us, so it'll be more convenient for all of us to meet there."

"What about Icheb and Seven and the Doctor and Captain Janeway?"

Samantha sighed. "Honey, they will all do whatever they think is right for them. Icheb will probably go to Starfleet Academy, and Captain Janeway might get another ship to command. We have to let them make their own choices."

Naomi _hated_ this answer. She'd already lost Neelix, her godfather, when she made the mistake of telling him she wasn't little anymore. The last thing she wanted was to lose everyone else. "I can't go anywhere," she announced. "I promised Tom I'd teach Miral how to play kadis kot." She folded her arms across her chest.

Samantha sighed again. Naomi was perspicacious, and she was intentionally acting difficult, Samantha knew, because she didn't like what she was being told. It wasn't worth pointing out to her that she'd made that promise before Miral was born and Voyager was home. Samantha decided to try a different approach. "Naomi, what would Seven say if I told her you were scared of going to Ktaris?"

Naomi's face clouded over. "I'm not scared of anything!"

Samantha knelt down in front of her. "You're gaining a father, not losing your friends. This is going to be the most important mission you've ever been on."

* * *

"Gerron," Renlay Sharr said, placing her hands gently on his shoulders, "we're off the hook tomorrow. We should plan something spectacular to do."

Gerron put his arms around her waist but scowled. "The way I see it, the sooner we have these debriefings, the sooner we're free. Why celebrate we're not going tomorrow?"

Sharr kissed him gently. "Because, you silly, angry man, it means we get to spend another day together in a tropical paradise."

Gerron smiled at this. "I've been thinking a lot about what Celes and Tabor were saying," he confided. "I guess I can understand their point."

"What do you want to do next?" she asked him seriously. She knew it was too early to be having that particular conversation, but it was too late in their careers on Voyager. Circumstances no longer gave them the luxury of "waiting and seeing" what would happen with their relationship.

"I don't know how to do anything artistic," he cautioned.

"So you can help rebuild houses."

"How do you know?"

"Because I sent a message to the minister in charge of the mission. They're taking volunteers to work on rebuilding houses and schools. Would you be willing to do that for the Cardassians?" Gerron was silent for a moment. "I'll go with you," she offered.

"What about your career in Starfleet?"

She shrugged. "Either I'll go as a Starfleet officer, or I'll take a leave of absence."

"Why would you do that?"

"Weren't you listening to Celes? Compassion," she replied, a smile forming on her lips. "I think it would be good for you. Maybe you could get rid of some demons from the past."

Gerron felt slightly cornered, but he wasn't immune to the effects of seven years on a Starfleet ship. He, too, had seen the value of befriending one's enemy time and again. With few exceptions it had worked to their advantage. He sighed. "I guess we're all going to Cardassia."

* * *

"Icheb, have a seat," Janeway said with a smile of delight. This was going to be one of the easier conversations she was going to have that night. She produced a data padd, waving at him. "Your official acceptance into Starfleet Academy. Congratulations, Cadet."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Have you thought about your plans for the rest of the summer?" Janeway wanted to know. "You don't have to start the Academy until the fall. You could spend the next three months get accustomed to life on Earth, perhaps with Seven or with the Wildmans –"

"I would like to begin the Academy immediately," Icheb declared.

"Are you sure? There are classes in the summer, but there aren't a lot of students around."

Icheb frowned. "Ensign Wildman and Naomi are prepared to return to Ktaris to reunite their family," he expained, "and Seven has begun a relationship with Chakotay. Like them I should find the place where I belong, and I believe that will be the Academy."

Janeway's heart nearly broke in two. Icheb only wanted to go to the Academy for the summer session because the people he loved all seemed to have plans that didn't involve him? She was a little angry at Samantha and Seven, though she knew she oughtn't be. "Icheb, Samantha and Naomi and Seven love you. If you want to go with the Wildmans to Ktaris, or if you want to stay with Seven, we can work that out. Harry Kim is probably going to stay on Earth. I'm sure he'd love to have you stay with him if you –"

"You once declared that I was an adult, Captain," Icheb interrupted. "As an adult, I request permission to begin my life. At the Academy."

Icheb was now the farthest from home of all them. He didn't belong on Earth – or in the Alpha Quadrant – yet in some ways, he seemed the most ready to accept the next phase in his life. Janeway had no doubt he'd made a promising cadet. She only hoped he'd be able to hold onto the relationships he'd made on Voyager. "You received nearly a full year of course credit for your work on Voyager," she informed him. "If you attend over the summer, you'll matriculate in the fall as a second-year."

Icheb gave an unrestrained smile. He was genuinely excited about the prospect, Janeway could see. "We'd better get you a uniform," she said with a smile of her own.

* * *

Tuvok was the next to meet with the captain. As a hot afternoon rain shower drenched the camp, they sat in her cabin, drinking tea. There was little to say. Tuvok was a model Starfleet officer. He was eager to return to Vulcan to see his family, particularly the grandchild he'd never met. Then he would begin his next assignment. Janeway suspected he would not be given an assignment in deep space, but she would write him a letter of recommendation for whatever post he desired, and their friendship would continue as it had for years.

Once Tuvok left her cabin, Chakotay entered, dripping wet and tracking in mud. He pulled his wet shirt away from his torso as he settled into one of her chairs, waiting for her to start the conversation.

"Thank you for arranging these meetings, Chakotay," she said as she looked outside at the pounding rain. "It occurred to me after you did that you don't have any reason to follow my orders."

"The first officer is in charge of crew matters," he reminded her lightly.

"Of course," she conceded. She took a seat opposite him. "They're going to ask me about why I made you the first officer, about how you handled the crew – especially the Starfleet crew. Whether or not you talked to me about regretting your decision to leave Starfleet in the first place. Is there anything special you want me to say? What are your plans?"

"I've been thinking about it for two weeks," he admitted, running a hand through his wet hair, "and I still don't know what I want."

"What about Seven?" Janeway ventured to ask, watching him carefully for a reaction.

Chakotay tugged on his earlobe. He guessed the time had come for them to address the elephant in the room. They were never going to be able to be friends again if they didn't. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it sooner," he said with a sigh.

"You didn't need to ask my permission," Janeway said, trying to muster all the levity she could manage when she wished with every fiber of her being that either of them had talked to her about it before it had started. "You and Seven are adults."

"Still," Chakotay continued, trying to get her to see his point of view, "Seven has always been special to you, and …"

Janeway didn't really hear the rest of what he said. She only heard the voice screaming inside her head: _Shut up, shut up! I don't want to talk about this anymore!_

She forced a small smile. "I wish you would consider staying in Starfleet."

"Aren't you being a little overly optimistic? There's no reason to think Starfleet will welcome me back – me or any of the other Maquis."

"What Maquis?" Janeway asked with a roguish smile.

He looked at her inquisitively for a moment before it registered. "There were no Maquis on board Voyager," he stated.

"None," she reiterated, "and that is exactly what we are both going to say during the inquiry. It's the best way I can think of to protect our crew."

_Our crew. Not __her__ crew. __Ours._ He knew Janeway was going to be a spitfire through this reintegration process, but he was just now starting to appreciate to what extent. She wasn't going to be forced into using divisive terms. Seven years ago, she had declared them one crew, a Starfleet crew, and she was not going to budge from that declaration.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she said quietly, "I'll miss having your counsel every day." _I'll miss you._

Chakotay smiled. "You'll be fine without me." _You were a great captain. You don't need me._

"Starfleet won't be fine without you." _I don't think I know how to be a Starfleet officer anymore without you at my side._

"Starfleet gave me up a long time ago." _My loyalty was to __you__, not Starfleet._

"Perhaps," Janeway said, turning away and raising an eyebrow, "and perhaps not."

Chakotay felt they were at an impasse. As he saw it, she was thinking like Seven, putting the same kind of faith in Starfleet that Seven put in her. He thought he understood reality of the situation much more clearly. She could be so blindly idealistic sometimes. Starfleet wasn't going to let him back in just because she wanted them to. And even if they did, he'd left for a good reason. How could he take back everything he'd once stood for? _She doesn't understand at all. Maybe she never did._ He sighed. "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Janeway was still sitting stone-faced, her elbows on her knees, contemplating her conversation with Chakotay when B'Elanna came in twenty minutes later.

"Captain, I'm sorry, am I interrupting you?"

"No, B'Elanna. Sit down. They're going to ask me questions about you tomorrow, so I thought I'd talk to you and Tom about your plans."

"I'm sorry he's not here, Captain. Naomi and Icheb were going to baby-sit, but at the last minute Miral got fussy."

"That's all right. How is she doing?"

"She's definitely part-Klingon," B'Elanna said with a half-smile. "The heat doesn't seem to bother her at all."

"What have you and Tom decided you'd like to do after the debriefings?"

"We've been talking about every possible scenario. If I'm on trial and he's not, then he's going to stay in San Francisco and ask his parents to help with Miral. If he's sent back to prison and I'm not, then I'll stay with his parents until Miral and I can find our own home. I asked Chakotay if he would consider being her guardian, in case anything ever happens to Tom and me. I know he'll probably end up in prison beside us, but the more I thought about our friendship, I –" She stopped suddenly when she felt Janeway's hand on her forearm. She looked into Janeway's gray eyes and wondered for a moment if it would be the last time she ever felt that familiar touch again.

"B'Elanna, what do you _want_ to happen? Do you want to stay in Starfleet?"

B'Elanna took a breath. "If you'd asked me that a few years ago, I might have had a very different answer. Tom, too."

"And now?"

B'Elanna folded her hands in her lap and looked at them for a moment. "Captain, I know I haven't been the model officer –"

"B'Elanna, I hope you know how much you have exceeded every expectation I had when Chakotay first recommended you for chief engineer."

"That's very kind, but we've clashed so many times."

"We have," Janeway acknowledged, patting B'Elanna's hands, "but sometimes being a model officer is knowing when to obey your commanding officer and when to challenge her. I think Starfleet would be lucky to keep you."

"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said softly. "That means a lot to me."

"What about Tom?"

B'Elanna smirked. "He only has two interests these days. Getting back at the helm of a starship and taking care of Miral."

"Well, then, let's figure out a duty assignment somewhere that suits new parents."

"Captain, with all due respect," B'Elanna said, sitting up a little straighter, "we've resigned ourselves to the fact that we probably won't get to keep our commissions."

Janeway shook her head. "You can't think like that, B'Elanna. I'm sure that –"

"Captain, we both know that if Starfleet had any intention of keeping us around, they wouldn't have left us to rot on this island." B'Elanna rose from the chair, shaking her head slightly. "Look, I really appreciate everything you said to me, and everything you've done for me and Tom over the last few years. But Chakotay's right. I don't think you understand what's happening here. Do you mind if I go back to my cabin now?"

Janeway frowned and gestured meagerly toward the open doorway.

* * *

Harry walked into Janeway's living space with purpose and took a seat next to her. He had carefully practiced the conversation he expected to have with her. Unfortunately, the captain derailed him with her opening line. "I'm sorry you're still an ensign, Harry."

"Wh – what?"

"You've been functioning as a senior officer for seven years. What did you once say to me? That if you were on any other ship, you'd be a lieutenant commander by now? You're probably right. You're a very capable officer."

"Well, thank you, Captain." Harry had completely forgotten his planned discussion. He knew he had the captain's confidence – captains don't give bridge duty, even the night watch, to anyone they don't trust – but he didn't know she thought quite so highly of him.

"I assume you intend to stay in Starfleet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway smiled. "Good. I'm asking the review board to consider promoting you to the rank of full lieutenant in consideration of the fact that you've been under some unusual circumstances." She took a sip of the coffee she'd switched to after B'Elanna had left. "I heard about an opening at planetary ops you might be interested in. Unless, of course, you want another assignment on a starship."

Harry shook his head. "No, Captain, I think I'd prefer to stick close to home for a little while."

"If that's all, Harry –"

"Excuse me, Captain," he interrupted – politely, he hoped – before she could send him away. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted." Even though they were out of uniform and on inactive duty status, neither could resist the formalities of the chain of command.

"Captain, you could have promoted me on Voyager. You promoted Tuvok. And Tom and B'Elanna both had the rank of lieutenant junior grade. Why keep one of your senior officers an ensign, especially when there were a lot of junior officers who outranked me?" He hoped the question wasn't too impertinent, but he had found himself in some sticky situations over the years – giving orders to lieutenants in engineering, for instance, or to crewmen who were twice his age. Twenty-five people were under his command in the operations division. Why not give him a rank they could look up to?

"Well, Harry," Janeway said, delaying her response with a slow sip of coffee, "I admit I thought of you as the baby of the group. You'd come to us straight from the Academy, and that was hard to forget. But let me ask you this: would anything have changed if you'd had another pip on your collar?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. Rank mattered to him – and to the captain – because they were Starfleet officers through and through. But if he really considered the past seven years, most of the time on the bridge, the crew called each other by their first names. And those sticky situations he'd encountered probably wouldn't have been any better if he wasn't an ensign. In fact, if he'd been a lieutenant, he might have expected the rank to carry him through. Instead he had worked hard to earn the respect of the crew. Maybe that was the captain's plan all along. Harry suddenly had a new appreciation for the gift that she'd given him, the gift of having to work for his position as leader.

"No, Captain, I don't think it would have," he slowly agreed.

"Harry, that position at planetary ops, it's in command. It requires a background in engineering, of course, but how do you think you'd look in red?"

Harry's face broke into a grin. "You think I should switch to the command track?"

"It all depends upon the outcome of the debriefings, of course," she warned. "But, yes, I think you should consider it, and I'd be happy to be the one recommending you."

"Thank you, Captain, really, thank you."

* * *

When Harry got back to his cabin, Michaela Jenkins was sitting on the step to his doorway. "I don't really know what I'm doing here," she said as he approached.

Harry sat down beside her. "Maybe you're feeling scared about tomorrow."

"I guess I am, a little. I've never been debriefed by an official panel at Starfleet Headquarters before."

"And having Tom prepare you for it probably isn't helping." Harry smiled.

"Mr. Voice of Reason? I've never seen him so worked up." She gave a little laugh. "He kept making this stupid joke today about how Baytart and Culhane should flip a coin to see who gets to fly Voyager over San Francisco."

"Nice of him to include you."

Jenkins smiled, seemingly unbothered. "He has too much on his mind right now to worry about my feelings." She looked at him. "How are you doing?"

"Actually," Harry admitted, "I just came from a meeting with the captain, and I feel pretty great about tomorrow."

"You should. You and Tuvok. The rest of the senior staff are felons and holograms."

"You're pretty pessimistic tonight, aren't you?" Harry observed carefully.

Jenkins sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have come here. It's not your responsibility to cheer me up."

"Hey," he said easily, "that's what friends are for."

"Harry, it's okay," she said, rising. "We said it was a one-time thing."

Harry stood up beside her. "That doesn't mean we can't be friends. You're worried about tomorrow and you need someone to talk to. Why don't you come in for awhile, and we can drink some coconut milk and talk about it?"

Jenkins laughed. "If I don't see another coconut for the rest of my life, I'll be a happy woman."

Harry stepped across the threshold to his cabin. "Come on, Jenkins. We can practice answering questions we think the panel's going to give, so you won't be afraid."

She crossed the threshold in order to give him a slow kiss on the cheek. "You're a sweet man, Harry Kim. Anyone would be lucky to claim you."

_Maybe they would_, he thought wistfully, _but no one ever does. _He didn't have any romantic feelings toward Jenkins, and the lust he'd felt a few nights ago had dissipated, but Harry had sincerely hoped they could stay friends. He watched with disappointment as his last failed Voyager romance moved off into the night and hoped that he would have better luck on his next assignment.

* * *

"_Warning, oxygen level at sixty millibars."_

_He felt his chest tighten as he began to struggle to catch enough oxygen. "Help me," he gasped. _

_She moved slowly, hand over hand, up the tether between them until she reached the arm of his suit. He held onto her as she worked at the controls. Then a piercing sound filled his helmet, rattling his eardrums. He winced in pain. _

"_We have to make sure the carrier wave is strong enough to get back to Voyager. Sorry," she yelled over the shrill noise._

"_Warning: oxygen level at fifty millibars."_

"_I'm not getting enough air!" he cried, his eyes flashing desperation. The continued alarm was making him panic, but he knew panicking would make him inhale more quickly. He tried to stay calm, to breathe in shallow, evenly spaced breaths. It seemed the more he concentrated on breathing, the faster the alarms came. _

"_Warning: oxygen level at forty millibars."_

"_Please! We have to share your oxygen!" The panic was starting to give way to grogginess. _

"_I can't! One of us has to stay alive to report back to the ship. We have to tell them where to find the warp core."_

"_Warning: oxygen level at thirty millibars."_

"_You're just going to let me die?" The shrill carrier wave continued to rattle around his helmet, confusing him as much as the lack of oxygen._

"_I have to!"_

"_Warning: oxygen level at twenty millibars."_

_Oxygen deprivation was setting in, leaving him no air or energy to fight. He choked out her name, his voice dry. "B'Elanna…"_

"_I'm sorry," she whispered, putting a gentle hand against the faceplate of his helmet._

"_You're…killing…me…"_

"_Warning: oxygen level at ten millibars."_

"_This is it," he warned her – or maybe he only thought it. He couldn't tell. "This is how I'm going to die – adrift in space…and I've never told her I love her."_

Tom Paris sat up with a scream.

Beside him in bed, B'Elanna awoke, sitting up and put a hand on his back. "You had a bad dream. It's okay. You're awake now."

"We were drifting in space, and my oxygen was running out." Tom's head was hanging down, and he wouldn't look at her. "I kept asking you to share your oxygen supply, but you wouldn't."

B'Elanna got the reference immediately. "Shh, it was just a dream," she reminded him again, rubbing his back.

After a moment his breathing slowed, and B'Elanna pulled him back down to the pillows. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, his face buried in her chest.

"You said I had to die so you could live," he continued. "I never told you I loved you."

"Remember what really happened? I shared my oxygen, and I told you I love you, and we're both alive." She continued to caress him and place gentle kisses on the side of his head until he came back to reality.

At last Tom admitted, "I'm so scared I'm going to lose you and Miral."

B'Elanna wasn't sure what the coming days would have in store for either of them, but she resolved at that moment that no matter what happened, one way or another, they were staying together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence, 2403**

B'Elanna slouched against the back of the sofa with an exaggerated groan. "I am exhausted," she announced. "That's the last time I Iet Starfleet talk me into one of these events. Do you know that one of those idiot reporters actually asked me if I would demonstrate how to use a _bat'leth_?"

"Did you?" Libby asked with some interest.

"No!"

Tom and Harry emerged from the kitchen with drinks in hand. "Here," Tom said, presenting B'Elanna a chilled glass. B'Elanna accepted it but looked at him with a question in her eyes. "Liquid courage. Drives away all the pain of giving interviews."

Libby sat up slightly to accept another glass from Harry, which she then promptly sipped. "Just what I needed." She glanced around the room. "Okay, if no one's going to bring up the Doctor's new girlfriend, I will."

"I think it's serious this time," Harry said. "I don't think she's just another girlfriend."

"He always dates women half his age," B'Elanna pointed out. "What do you think he does to attract them?"

"Sing opera?" Tom teased. B'Elanna laughed. "Remember, he's only thirty-two. He and Elina are practically the same age."

"Hmph," was her reply as she took a drink. Then she clarified, "I don't care who he dates or how old they are. I just want to know how he does it."

"His winning personality," Harry suggested genially. "Which, you know, is a credit to you tweaking his program during his formative years."

"Just call me a matchmaker."

Libby started to say something, but before she could the door opened, and Andrew and Miral entered. "Oh," Miral teased as she surveyed the drinks in their hands, "I see you left the official party to start one of your own."

"Munchkin, you want something?" Tom offered.

She shook her head and dropped onto the sofa beside B'Elanna. "I'm exhausted," she declared. "Do you know how many former crew members and former crew members' kids we had to talk to tonight?"

"Correction: _you_ had to talk to," Andrew noted as he took a seat near his mother. "No one cares about me. They only care about the special baby born during Voyager's homecoming."

Libby reached out to stroke his cheek. "You're just as special. Do I have to remind you about your unusual birth?" There was a knock at the door, and she turned to Harry. "Who could that be at this hour?" She set her drink on the coffee table and went to the door. "Reg! What are you doing here?"

Reg Barclay burst into the living room with more energy than the other six had combined. "After I got home, I was looking through some old things, and I came across this." He pulled an isolinear chip from his pocket. "Harry, your computer?" Harry nodded absently, and Reg put the isolinear chip into the large display at the far end of the room. "After Voyager's return, Starfleet kept mum about the crew for about two weeks…until this interview came over the newsfeeds."

"Reg," Tom asked, "you kept a newsfeed from twenty years ago?"

Reg looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, uh, uh, that was before I was really friends with any of you, and I – I – I kept a s-s-scrapbook of your achievements."

B'Elanna burst into laughter, causing Reg to turn even redder. Even Andrew and Miral snickered.

"Just be glad you didn't tell us that twenty years ago," Harry said, "or you might never have become friends with us."

"I'm sorry, Reg," B'Elanna said, trying to compose herself. "Show the clip."

"All right," he said, trying to recover a little of his pride. "Before the Voyager crew were released from quarantine, there was a lot of speculation about what was going to happen to them, about who they were, and what they had done. Starfleet permitted one – and only one – interview. Everyone in the Federation watched with anticipation, hoping it would answer some questions." He activated the display with a flourish.

"_Good evening. I'm Patty Portman, and tonight I have a very special guest. You've heard about their magnificent return to Federation space two weeks ago. After seven years on the far side of the galaxy, they emerged unexpectedly from a Borg transwarp conduit. Since the USS Voyager's homecoming, Starfleet has kept the one hundred forty-person crew under close wraps. Tonight I sit down with Voyager's operations officer, Ensign Harry Kim, to talk about life in the Delta Quadrant and much more."_

Crew headshots began popping up as the narrator explained how Voyager had initially disappeared, so Reg advanced the video playback until an image of a younger Harry Kim with raven black hair filled the screen.

"So handsome," Libby cooed.

"Mom, shh," Andrew scolded.

"_And what exactly did you think of the Maquis at that point?"_

"_Well, I was devoted to my duties as a Starfleet officer, and that meant protecting the Federation. I knew the Maquis didn't want to become outlaws, but my job was to stop them."_

"_Has your opinion of the Maquis changed over the last seven years?"_

_Harry nodded. "I've learned that they're equally devoted. While I may not support their cause, I admire their commitment to it. Some of my best friends are former Maquis, and they're resourceful and creative. I'm not sure Voyager could have stayed in one piece without them."_

"_Did you think Voyager was going to get home?"_

"_I did. I always believed that we would."_

"_There must have been temptation to give up, to establish a colony somewhere, rather than continuing to fly through uncharted space."_

"_We were tempted a few times, sure. But Captain Janeway had decided immediately after we got lost that we were going to get home, and she held to that belief every day. It gave the rest of us hope. A lot of us had joined Starfleet to explore the unknown, and on Voyager we had a chance to do that every single day. And we all had families and friends to keep us going. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that we all had times when we wanted to settle down –"_

"_Especially when you hit Borg space, I'm sure."_

"_That was rough," Harry agreed. "But we always knew we'd get home. We didn't know when or how. But we knew that one day, we'd make it."_

"_Tell us about some of the alien species you met. Which one was the most interesting?"_

"_Well, I'm a little biased, but I'd have to say the Talaxians."_

"Skip ahead, Reg," Tom urged. "It's going to be a Neelix tribute."

"Don't you want to see it?" Libby asked him. "I thought you loved him."

"We do," B'Elanna assured her, "but he's a little –" She stopped as a variety of pictures of Neelix began filling the screen, and then an old video clip of Neelix yelling, "Good morning, Voyager! Today on our program…" as he put his face right up to the recording device.

Libby grimaced. "I see what you mean. Reg, skip ahead!"

"…_a lot of speculation about whether Voyager should be welcomed home as heroes or treated with suspicion."_

"_It's understandable," Harry said diplomatically. "We've been gone a long time. We integrated strange technology into the ship, we have two former Borg crew members, a sentient hologram, food and specimens of unknown origins –"_

"_And you arrived from inside a Borg cube."_

"_Actually, it was a sphere, but yes. If I were on the Federation Council, I'd probably wait a few weeks for us to 'assimilate' back into society, too."_

"Harry, a Borg pun?" Tom shook his head disapprovingly.

"Hey, four Starfleet admirals rehearsed me on that answer for an hour. It wasn't my line."

"_Your debriefings officially begin tomorrow. What hope do you have for the outcome?"_

"_I hope they start on time."_

"_Do you think Starfleet will banish your Maquis friends? Send them to penal colonies?"_

"_Look, we've all lived through much worse. I'm sure that no matter what happens, we'll stay strong and support each other."_

"Another diplomatic non-answer," B'Elanna noted.

"_You heard it first here," Patty Portman said, looking directly at the recording device. "I'm Patty Portman, saying good night –"_

Reg paused playback and rejoined his friends around the coffee table.

"I don't understand, Dad," Andrew said. "Why you?"

"It was a brilliant move on Starfleet's part," Reg explained. "The upstanding ensign with the spotless background. It had to be Harry."

"Yeah, plus he's the best looking senior officer," B'Elanna said before taking a long drink. "He's got that baby face."

"What am I, Tarkalean liver pudding?" her husband pouted with equal parts annoyance and amusement.

"And the debriefings?" Miral asked. "How were they?"

"Hell on Earth," Harry answered immediately. He could feel his friends' eyes on him. "Well, not for me. I sailed through. Suffice it to say, there's a reason we haven't told you much about that time."

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day One**

Since the island had no transporter technology, and since Starfleet wanted to keep them under close watch, a shuttle arrived at 0745 to take the first officers to San Francisco. The sight of it landing in the middle of their secluded tropical playground brought nearly everyone out of their cabins. Those whose names were on the list had been allowed to wear their Voyager uniforms – a concession granted by Starfleet Command, since their debriefings were officially Starfleet business – and they arrived at the shuttle with all of their personal effects, in the event that they would not be returning that evening.

Except B'Elanna, who decided not to take anything except a few medical supplies she needed for nursing. She hoped that leaving her possessions behind with Tom and the baby would somehow make it more likely she would return to them. They walked to the shuttle with her, and B'Elanna gave each of them a kiss goodbye.

"This could be the last time we see you for a long time," Tom said grimly.

"Don't say that," she said, forcing herself to sound confident. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"What if you're…"

_Detained?_ "Don't even think about it," she said, unwilling to voice the word. "Anyway, it's Starfleet. I'm sure if anything happens, they'll let me have a visitation or at least contact you." She pushed her hair off her face, and the wind immediately blew it forward again. "I'll see you in a few hours."

In truth she was nervous about what lie ahead, but she knew they had been in much tougher situations before. She let Tom embrace her tightly, knowing that he was worried that he'd worked for so many years to put his life in order, only to have it to come apart again – the ultimate slap in the face. After a moment he let her go, and she looked deeply into his eyes, allowing their visual contact to say all the things she didn't have the time or energy to say at that particular moment.

He understood.

Nearby Chakotay and Seven were murmuring their own tender farewells. He squeezed her hand one last time before following B'Elanna into the shuttle. Tom took a step closer to Seven, and they waved until the shuttle hatch closed.

* * *

Harry hadn't told anyone about his conversation with Janeway, but he had called his parents to tell them he might be coming home that night. Mary Kim hadn't changed at all; she'd promised to make him apple pie and demanded a musical performance. It was at once comforting and maddening.

As they rode the shuttle to San Francisco, Harry let himself steal a glance at Tuvok, whose eyes were focused straight ahead. He wondered what his friend was thinking and trying not to feel at that particular moment. Harry felt butterflies in his stomach but also a sense of wonder and excitement at the possibilities on the horizon. But he wasn't a kid anymore. He sat up a little straighter and tried to look as unflappable as Tuvok.

* * *

Images of Neelix and Kes appeared on the viewscreen behind them, and the admirals craned their necks to look. They turned back to the small table in front of them at which Kathryn Janeway sat alone.

"Captain Janeway, can you discuss the nature of the involvement in the activities of Voyager of these two aliens?" Admiral Pendergast asked her.

Janeway was growing restless. She'd been seated in front of the four admirals for three hours, and thus far all she had done was repeat information from her logs. She launched into an explanation of who Neelix and Kes were and what they had contributed to the ship.

"At any time," Admiral Peabody asked, "did they have access to critical systems, such as weapons or propulsion?" Peabody was quite young for an admiral, and her blonde up-do was in stark contrast to the salt-and-pepper receding hairlines of the middle-aged gentlemen sitting around her. She had a reputation for being a firecracker, and Janeway had immediately noticed that all the particularly annoying questions were coming from her.

"Neelix served as a security officer from time to time, after he'd been on the ship a few years. He also trained in engineering."

"Captain Janeway," Pendergast continued, "you said that one of the key factors in your decision to destroy the Caretaker Array was the Prime Directive?"

"That's correct. I was worried about shifting the balance of power in that part of space by allowing the Kazon access to the Caretaker's technology."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I don't quite understand. Did your concern for the Prime Directive not apply to shifting the balance of power in the Delta Quadrant by preferencing two species as members of your crew?" Peabody was pretending to look confused in order to ask snide questions, and the obvious ruse further annoyed Janeway.

"Can you rephrase the question?" Janeway asked with false politeness. _Two can play this game._

"Did you or did you not have a more favorable relationship with a race called –" She consulted a padd in front of her – "the Talaxians because of the presence of Neelix on your ship?"

"We did. We were allies with the Talaxians, and we found them to be a peaceful species."

"Can you name one of the enemies of the Talaxians?" Peabody continued.

"We know that the Kazon attacked the Talaxians on more than one occasion."

"Did the Kazon also attack you?"

"Admiral Peabody," Admiral Markham, who had remained silent during the entire three hours, finally interrupted, "the history of Voyager's entanglement with the race known as the Kazon has been completely outlined in Captain Janeway's reports."

_Thank god_, Janeway thought. _At least one of them is being reasonable enough to move this forward._

* * *

"Can you tell us the number of ships you were responsible for destroying as the captain of a Maquis ship?"

"I could only make an estimate," Chakotay admitted truthfully.

"Can you tell us the number of lives that were taken as a direct result of your command of the Val Jean?"

"I couldn't estimate that."

There was a little muted chatter as the panel discussed his response.

Captain Seaborn was the next to speak up. "Have you had any contact with the Maquis in the past seven years?"

"No."

"Mr. Chakotay, I remind you that you have taken an oath," Seaborn warned. "Were there or were there not members of your own Maquis cell aboard Voyager with you?"

"There were no Maquis on Voyager." Now the panel erupted into louder discussion. This was the response he and Kathryn had prepared, and it was truthful to them. Certainly there had been tensions between the two groups (Tuvok's "boot camp," for one) and at least one incidence of an attempted mutiny (_pagh'tem'far B'tanay_, he thought with some regret), but those were family disputes. To the outside world it was important to project unity. At the end of the day, they had eaten at the same dinner tables, worked on the same pieces of equipment, and saved each other's lives, not as Janeway's crew and Chakotay's crew working in tandem, but as the Voyager crew.

"Can you please restate your answer?" Admiral Cabot asked. He was prompting him to change it, Chakotay knew, but he wasn't going to.

"There were no Maquis on board Voyager. When the Val Jean was destroyed, we were integrated into Voyager's crew as Starfleet officers. Your original question was whether or not I have had any contact with the Maquis in the last seven years. The answer is no. I have only had contact with Starfleet officers and various alien species."

"I recommend we take a recess," Seaborn suggested. Chakotay could tell by his expression that they were not happy with his answers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day One**

"Kessik IV," B'Elanna answered with an unhappy sigh. The list of questions extended far beyond anything she could have anticipated. She felt her breasts growing heavy and hoped the panel would not be privy to watching milk leak through her outdated uniform. She cursed herself for not taking the lactic suppressant the doctor on the outpost had given her, but she had no way of anticipating the duration of the session. And her bag of nursing supplies was now somewhere in Starfleet custody.

"And your mother's name?"

"Miral." _This is all in my personnel file. Why are they wasting time with this?_

"Ms. Torres, you gave birth to a child on stardate 54973, aboard Voyager, is that correct?"

B'Elanna did not like hearing herself referred to as "Ms." She knew they were simply trying to call attention to the fact that her brevet rank of lieutenant junior grade no longer carried any weight. "That's right."

"And the name of the child?"

"Miral."

"The child's father?"

"_Lieutenant_ Thomas Eugene Paris."

"Are you and Mr. Paris married?"

"Yes."

"Where and when did you marry?"

"We were married by Captain Janeway on Voyager on stardate 54058." To B'Elanna's mind, the entire debriefing process had thus far been a giant waste of time. She crossed her arms over her heavy chest testily. She had expected to get grilled about her Maquis experiences or the systems modifications she had made to their precious Intrepid-class. Instead, they seemed more concerned with genealogy.

"Where and when did you first meet Mr. Paris?"

"On board Voyager," she answered reflexively. She paused. "I'm sorry, that's not entirely true. We were briefly in the Maquis together, but we didn't really know each other very well."

"What was the nature of your relationship with Mr. Paris once you boarded Voyager?"

"Excuse me?"

"Prior to being married, what was the nature of your relationship with Mr. Paris?"

"I'm sorry, but is this about my love life or about what happened to Voyager?" B'Elanna asked, trying to control her temper. One of the last things Captain Janeway and Tuvok had reminded her when they'd arrived in the morning was that she needed to remain cool.

"Are you aware of the fact that Mr. Paris is a convicted felon?"

"Of course I am," she laughed.

"Were you aware of this fact prior to your marriage?"

"Yes." _Great,_ B'Elanna thought, _now they're going to make a list of all my previous relationships: ex-con, murderer, that petaQ in Warp Theory lab…_

"And on stardate 52179, Mr. Paris was sentenced to thirty days in the brig for disobeying a direct order from Captain Janeway, violating the laws of an alien world, and nearly causing a diplomatic incident, is that right?"

"You have the captain's logs, you tell me."

Her appointed advocate leaned toward her. "It's best if you don't use sarcasm." Then louder to the panel he said, "I'd like to request that the committee discuss Mr. Paris's crimes with Mr. Paris directly and utilize this time for questions that specifically pertain to Ms. Torres."

"Thanks," B'Elanna mumbled. "Any way you can get me a recess?"

"Ms. Torres, are you familiar with the treaty of 2367?"

B'Elanna nearly snorted. It was the treaty between the Cardassians and the Federation, the one the Maquis rejected, that had propelled them into action. "Yes."

"Are you aware that your actions during your time in the Maquis were in direct violation of this treaty?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware at the time that violating the treaty was a crime?"

"Yes." Her answers were becoming rote. She imagined making an audio recording of herself saying the word "yes" and returning in a few hours to check on the progress.

"Were you ever convicted of any crime, similar to this or otherwise?"

_Ah, something new._ "No. Well, yes, I was convicted of a crime during a visit to an alien world, but that had nothing to do with the Maquis or the Cardassians."

A Vulcan admiral tapped a padd quickly. "You were arrested by a species known as the Mari, is that correct?"

B'Elanna nodded. "They're telepathic, so thinking about violence is illegal on their world, only I didn't know it at the time." No sooner had the words left her mouth than B'Elanna realized what a giant mistake it was calling attention to her proclivity for violence. She sighed. _Well, it's all the ship's logs, anyway._ Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her feckless advocate.

"Were you ever held in custody following your activities with the Maquis?"

A hole in their line of questioning! "I was held in custody on several occasions _after joining_ the Maquis, but none as a direct result of _being_ a Maquis."

"Can you elaborate?"

"All right," she said, smiling with satisfaction. "First I was abducted by an entity known as the Caretaker, then I was held in a hospital by a species known as the Ocampa, later Tuvok and I –"

"Ms. Torres, please limit your response only to Federation activities."

_I was serving on a Federation starship at the time, _she wanted to say, but as much as she enjoyed giving them a hard time, she just wanted the session to end. "No, I was never held in custody as a Maquis."

"Ms. Torres, what is your genetic makeup?"

"My mother was Klingon, and my father is human."

"Has this always been your genetic makeup?"

"Yes." _What a stupid question,_ she thought, shifting in the chair so her uniform wouldn't chafe her chest.

"Ms. Torres, would you like to reconsider your answer? Your medical record reflects otherwise. I remind you that you are under oath."

B'Elanna considered the question for a moment and took her best guess. "Maybe you mean the time the Vidiians decided to separate my DNA? For a brief period I existed as two separate entities, one fully human and one fully Klingon. The Klingon died, but her DNA was reintegrated into my body. I guess you could say this body originated as fully human." It was not really an experience she liked to think about, much less have to explain to bunch of high-ranking Starfleet duds.

"It was discovered that your Klingon DNA was able to cure their disease?"

"You'd have to ask the Doctor," B'Elanna answered honestly. "I think it just slowed its progress. He was working on a cure, but I don't know if he ever found one."

"And on stardate 49694.2, with the USS Voyager under the command of Acting Captain Tuvok, you agreed to trade some of your DNA for an antiviral agent needed by Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay?"

"That's right," B'Elanna said slowly. She couldn't gauge where the line of questioning was going.

"Ms. Torres, was it difficult for you to make a deal with the Vidiians for the sake of the lives of your captain and first officer?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you have trouble putting the needs of your captain and first officer before your own trauma?"

* * *

"Yeah," Harry said with a smile. "I feel I've really grown under her guidance. Our situation in the Delta Quadrant was really awful, but it gave me a chance to perform the duties of a senior officer." The debriefing was going much better than he expected. It had only been thirty minutes, and it seemed as though it was ready to wrap up. He could smell the homemade apple pie already.

"Ensign Kim, your personal logs indicate that you and Mr. Thomas Paris enjoyed quite a friendship."

A dark cloud suddenly formed over Harry's sunny homecoming. _They read my personal logs?_

"Tom Paris was – is – my good friend."

"What is the nature of your relationship with B'Elanna Torres?"

"She's also a good friend."

"Were you at any time romantically involved with either Tom Paris or B'Elanna Torres?"

"No!"

"Were you at any time privy to secrets pertaining to the Maquis obtained through Tom Paris or B'Elanna Torres?"

_Shouldn't you be more concerned about Chakotay?_ "No."

Admiral Wallis tipped her head down and studied him intently. "Ensign Kim, you have a nearly spotless record. The only trouble it seems you've ever gotten into was on stardate 52573.1 over a personal relationship." She gave a restrained smile. "Captain Janeway might have needed to reprimand you, but I think we can all agree a personal relationship isn't the worst reason to go on report."

Harry looked up hopefully, remembering how angry he had been with the captain – and then later how upset he was that he had disappointed her, over someone he thought he loved but didn't really even know.

"It happens to all young officers at least once," Captain Iabe added with another smile.

"What I want to know, Ensign," Wallis continued, "is why you befriended such disreputable people? You have a bright future in Starfleet. You should surround yourself with people who have equally bright futures."

Harry gave an inward groan, mentally kissing the extra pip and apple pie good-bye. "With all due respect, Admiral, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres aren't disreputable people. During the seven years I have served with them they have both been upstanding officers."

* * *

"Did Captain Janeway inform you of her intention to make the Maquis captain Chakotay the first officer of Voyager prior to doing so?"

"She did not."

"Did you, as second officer, agree with her decision?"

"It is my duty as a Starfleet officer to agree with my captain's decisions."

Suspecting more to Tuvok's answer, the Vulcan admiral two seats from the left pressed, "Did you find her decision logical?"

"I did."

"Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, did you find it difficult to follow the orders of a known Maquis?"

"If you are referring to Commander Chakotay, I did not. I found him to be a skilled officer, and as such it was rather easy to follow his orders. Additionally, as the first officer and acting commander, he was my superior. It was my duty to follow his orders."

"But would you have followed his orders even if it wasn't your duty?" Admiral Perkins asked.

"That is an illogical question. If it were not my duty –"

"Yes or no, Mr. Tuvok," Captain Mortenson encouraged. "If there was no rule saying you had to follow someone's orders, would you have followed Chakotay's orders?"

"If he were serving as my first officer and commander, I would."

Mortenson frowned at this answer. "Commander, tell us about the events of stardate 54090. According to the ship's logs, you investigated a series of attacks on the Maquis crew, and the result of the investigation was ultimately that you were responsible, correct?"

"That is correct. However, I was experiencing a form of mind control."

"And the Maquis crew eventually detained the Starfleet officers and attempted to take over the ship?" Tuvok nodded. "Commander Tuvok, were you one of the crew members who attempted to retake Voyager?"

"I was."

"How long did you spend uncover in the Maquis, Commander? Are you certain that your loyalties to Chakotay were not the result of your own shift in loyalties away from Starfleet?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I'm finding this a little difficult to believe, Captain Janeway," Peabody said, again in mock confusion. She looked down the table at her colleagues for support. "You encountered a species more destructive than the Borg, and you discovered a way to stop them. You saw them preparing for an assault on Earth, and you did nothing?"

"I tried to make peace with them," Janeway repeated resolutely. "That is what Starfleet stands for, isn't it? Don't we value peace over war? Friendship over enmity? Or has our mission changed in the time we've been gone?"

"Captain Janeway," Markham intervened, "perhaps we should discuss the Borg female known as Seven of Nine."

"Ah, yes," Peabody swooned, "please tell us about your decision to embrace the _Borg_ as part of your crew, Captain."

"She was not a Borg at the time; she had been disconnected from the collective," Janeway reminded them sorely.

"Didn't she continue to remain in communication in her regenerative state?" Pendergast asked.

Janeway cleared her throat slightly. How many close calls had they had with the collective over the years? "She had a few difficulties reintegrating into human society, but she managed. Voyager faced minimal risk."

"Captain," Markham said, "when the Enterprise under the command of Jean-Luc Picard found a single Borg drone and attempted to teach it humanity, they were faced with the opportunity to return it to the collective and infect every drone in existence. Have you read the report on this encounter?"

Janeway nodded. Of course she'd read it; how else did they think she got the idea that Seven could learn individuality in the first place?

"Did you read Captain Picard's addendum to that report?"

"Yes. He noted that Admiral Necheyev verbally reprimanded him for not following through on the plan."

"That's right, Captain," Peabody said. "The next time you encounter Species 8472, I hope you'll remember that."

"I'm sure I will," Janeway answered pertly.

"I'd like to point out to the panel that this wasn't the only time Captain Janeway made a compromise with a species that posed a threat to the Federation," Peabody said. "If you'll look at the data I've provided, I'm noting three other separate incidents: one with a hunting species known as the Hirogen, to whom Captain Janeway gave –"

"We should stick to asking questions of the captain," Markham suggested. "There will be time for our assessment of her actions later."

"In that case," Peabody continued with evident annoyance, "I have another question. Do you consider yourself a good captain?"

Janeway looked up with surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't see the relevance," Pendergast started, but Peabody was on a roll.

"Do you consider yourself a good captain?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Based on what?"

"Based on my adherence to Starfleet protocols, my ability to lead a crew, the decisions I make in combat situations…I'm sorry, is this a debriefing about the last seven years' mission, or an assessment of my continuation in Starfleet?"

Markham intervened; he was not going to let a good captain feel that she was mounting the gallows. "Captain Janeway, I assure you that your continuation in Starfleet is not on trial. We are merely here to ascertain," he looked around the panel as if to remind them to stay on track, "the probability that a similar offer will be extended to other members of your crew. I'd like to remind the panel of that end, and ask them to keep other questions to a minimum."

Peabody huffed. "Captain Janeway's ability to command is relevant to determine whether officers who served under her have had the appropriate training and experience."

"I recommend we take a recess."

* * *

At long last B'Elanna found herself excused for a recess. They'd been given a short break four hours earlier, but she desperately required another. She asked for her nursing supplies, and her advocate promised they'd be brought to her.

She walked out of the debriefing room and found Chakotay in the main hall, sitting on a bench, his head hanging, his hand in his hair. B'Elanna stood in front of him with her arms oddly crossed over her chest, not sure what to do with herself. Janeway came storming out of another room a moment later.

"Are you all right?" she demanded of them with all authority. Clearly, she was shaken.

"I'm fine," Chakotay sighed, lifting his head slightly to look at her. "You?"

"These damned brass," she said, risking insubordination. Fortunately no one else was around to hear, and B'Elanna and Chakotay certainly weren't going to tell on her. "Have they been giving you a hard time?" She looked down at Chakotay and got her answer. "B'Elanna, why are you standing like that?"

"Um, I, I haven't nursed since this morning…" B'Elanna's face grew hot. She didn't really want to explain her bodily functions to the captain or to Chakotay.

"Why didn't you ask for a recess?" Janeway demanded. B'Elanna opened her mouth in futility, as Janeway didn't wait for an answer. With a firm hand on B'Elanna's back, she pushed her down the corridor and into the hearing room. She pushed her all the way in front of the panel, some of whom were absent, the rest of whom were startled. "This woman gave birth two weeks ago, which you know, as it's in her file, and you no doubt interrogated her about it. You have held her here for eight hours, and she needs to be with her baby for her own medical reasons and for the health and safety of that child. I request that you reconvene her debriefing tomorrow morning."

"Request approved."

Janeway nodded curtly, satisfied, and returned to the main hall, leaving B'Elanna alone, slightly dazed.

* * *

"I assure you, my loyalties have always been and continue to be with the Federation and Starfleet."

"If you were not loyal to the Federation, you wouldn't admit it, would you?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Vulcans do not lie. However, there is a certain amount of logic to your statement. It is conceivable that were I not loyal to the Federation, I would not readily admit so." He knew the full implications of what he was saying were dangerous – that they may not understand he was merely following the course of logic – so he continued, "I am, however, presenting the truth. I believe my service record, as well as my personal logs and the logs of my fellow crewmen, will attest to this."

The panel seemed satisfied. "Very well, Commander. We thank you for your time. You are free to return home. You will receive your new assignment in three days."

Tuvok nodded. "Thank you, Admirals, Captain."

* * *

"Did he steal a shuttle without Captain Janeway's permission, Ensign, yes or no?"

"Yes, but he wasn't –"

"Did you try to stop him?"

"No, but –"

Harry Kim's debriefing felt more like a trial with every hour that passed. Already they'd had a break for lunch, and dinnertime was rapidly approaching. He could imagine his mother, across the continent a few time zones, recycling the untouched apple pie before going to bed.

"Did you agree with Captain Janeway's punishment?"

"I didn't really think about it at the time."

"What do you think about that decision now, Ensign?"

"I think she made the right decision."

"And if you had been the captain?"

"I would have done the same." Harry said the words effortlessly, without thinking, but once he had said them, he knew he meant them. He wanted to be the kind of commanding officer Captain Janeway was.

"Very well, Ensign." There was some muffled discussion before someone announced, "We have no further questions for you. You're free to go. You will receive your new assignment in three days."

A bit of tough grilling at the end, but for the most part, Harry thought as he left the debriefing, it hadn't gone too badly. More importantly, he was finally on his way home.

* * *

"….justify why you should stay in Starfleet…..Maquis…..left in the first place?"

Chakotay was beginning to zone out as the questions continued on and on, with no direct line of thought. They moved in circles, overlapping and repeating information, and swirling together into confusion. It seemed like a lousy technique for a debriefing, he thought, but a pretty good one for psychological torture. "I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?"

"I asked you to justify to us why you should be allowed to stay in Starfleet, given that you left to join the Maquis and only started wearing the uniform again when you were left with no other choice?"

It occurred to him why his debriefing was dragging on. They weren't trying to figure out whether or not he was going to be arrested; they were trying to figure out whether or not he should get to keep his commission. He sensed there was an easy way to end the interrogation. A decision he'd been unable to make for two weeks suddenly became crystal clear; he just hoped that Seven would support it. "I can't," he told the panel easily. "I don't want to stay in Starfleet."

"You don't?"

"No."

* * *

B'Elanna and Janeway found themselves alone on the shuttle that returned to Mariana Two, uncertain of what had happened to the others. They sat through the ten-minute ride in silence, exhausted by the day's events and contemplating what the next day might bring.

When the shuttle landed, a group of curious onlookers gathered to see who exited. Captain Janeway emerged first and slowly approached Seven of Nine. "I'm sorry. We aren't sure what happened to Chakotay," she explained, putting her arm around her protégée. It was the first real interaction they'd had in two weeks. "I'm sure we'll hear something any minute now."

When Tom spotted B'Elanna, he rushed to greet her as she came out of the open hatch. Seeing the expression of relief on his face, she crossed her arms over her chest with a grin. "Miss me?"

"I just came to tell you you're late for dinner," Tom teased, a split-second before he cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence, 2403**

"They sent you back to the island without telling you what had happened to Chakotay and my dad?" Andrew wore a shocked expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe B'Elanna's story. It seemed wholly uncharacteristic of Starfleet – not to mention that it seemed unfair his in-laws, whom he adored, had once been treated as undesirables.

But B'Elanna, the one who had actually lived through the ordeal, gave him a small, sympathetic smile, letting him she understood. "We didn't know about Tuvok either. I was just told to report to the shuttle pad, and when I got there, it was just Captain Janeway and me."

"So what had happened to Chakotay?"

"The shuttle ride home was silent. I think the admiral and I were both thinking the same thing, but neither of us wanted to say it. For about an hour after we arrived, everyone on the island was just standing around, aimlessly offering threats."

* * *

E**arth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Day Fifteen**

"I'm sorry," Janeway said, putting an arm around Seven as they moved away from the shuttle. "We aren't sure what happened to Chakotay. I'm sure we'll hear something any minute now."

Overhearing her, Mike Ayala burst forward. "What do you mean you don't know what happened to Chakotay?"

Janeway turned over her shoulder to look at him – at all of the gathered crew. "I'm sure he's fine. There's no reason for alarm. He just wasn't on the shuttle with us."

"You mean they didn't tell you anything?" Mariah Henley demanded.

Sensing the rise of an angry mob, B'Elanna pulled away from Tom and stepped closer to the captain. "It's not going to do us any good to get angry right now. Everyone should just stay calm until we find out where he is."

"I know where he is," Dalby declared. "He's on his way to a penal colony, and we're all going to be next." His statement was punctuated by a chorus of "yeah!"s from angry former Maquis.

"No one is going to arrest you," Janeway tried to reassure them in vain.

"Hey!" B'Elanna yelled over the ruckus. It seemed she had only recently been in this same position, second in command of a group of wayward Maquis, trying to convince them to keep cool under pressure. Her thirty-odd friends were doing a good job getting each other worked up, and she nearly threw her hands in the air when Tom put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, giving a loud whistle that caught everyone's attention. "Thank you. Look, I know you're all worried. But Captain Janeway and I were at Starfleet Command all day, and if they were going to arrest the former Maquis, I wouldn't be here right now. And they would have told the captain. So let's assume that Chakotay is okay until we hear otherwise, all right?"

"Well, we don't have to take this kind of treatment," Henley declared. "If they're not going to bother telling us what's going on, I say we boycott their debriefings. I don't have to answer Starfleet's questions. I'm not a Starfleet officer."

"Yes, you are," the captain reminded her sharply. "You're Starfleet officers, all of you, and you have been for seven years, and I don't give a damn what you did before that."

"The captain's right," B'Elanna added for good measure. "Some of us want to stay in Starfleet. None of us want to go to prison. The best thing we can do is stick together. If we start factioning off and rebelling against the debriefings, all we'll be doing is giving Starfleet more evidence that we really are outlaws." She looked around the open field at the assembled crew with a sigh.

"Tough crowd," Tom murmured from behind her.

Crewman Unai came running out of the main facility. "There's an incoming transmission. It's Chakotay."

Seven's eyes met the captain's, and then she began moving toward the hall. Henley followed suit, until B'Elanna grabbed her forearm, stopping her. "Let Seven go alone," she warned.

"I just want to know that he's all right, and if he's all right, I want to know why he abandoned us."

"Chakotay would never abandon us," B'Elanna insisted, still holding her arm. "I'll go with her, and if he wants to say anything to the crew, I promise I'll deliver the message. " Henley nodded, signaling she agreed to those terms, and B'Elanna released her grip. She hurried after Seven to the main hall.

"Are you all right?" Seven demanded of the image on screen. She recognized the intensity of her voice and hoped he wouldn't think it was directed at him, but rather at her concern over his situation. "Your absence has created a minor disturbance here."

"I can imagine," Chakotay said, flashing his dimples at her. "I'm okay. And you're going to be fine tomorrow. I promise. If anything was going to happen, it would have happened today."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in Belize, at a friend's house. He said I can stay here as long as I need to."

"Until your next commission."

"I hope you're not disappointed, Seven, but I'm not going to be in Starfleet anymore."

Seven considered whether or not this was cause for disappointment. As a first officer, Chakotay had served Voyager well. The first officer was responsible for the crew, and Chakotay had been a friend to all, someone they could talk to about their problems, someone whose advice they could trust. She knew that as well as anyone; he'd helped her find a place for herself on the ship and mediated many a quarrel between her and Lieutenant Torres. The first officer was also to be counsel for the captain, and Chakotay had served that role with equal distinction. Seven could tell, though the captain never said anything expressly to her, that she relied on him as a sounding board and valued his friendship.

But Seven knew he had other talents and interests. He had begun talking more often about archaeology since their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, and she knew it was a line of work he was seriously considering.

Precisely fifty-six hours and twenty-four minutes earlier, they had decided that they would like to live together. Sharing Chakotay's cabin during quarantine, even if just at night, had been an experience Seven savored. If Chakotay was no longer going to serve in Starfleet, then the most logical course of action would be for her to pursue civilian life as well. Although she wasn't certain how she would do this, Seven thought it might be agreeable to try.

"If you do not wish to be in Starfleet, I support your decision," Seven assured him. Her hand touched the image of his face on screen. "I don't want us to be apart."

"I wish you were here," Chakotay said softly. They held each other's gaze for a long moment. "I think this means the rest of the Maquis are safe. If they were going to arrest us, they would have started with me."

"That will be a comfort to the others."

"Tell the captain I'm okay," he instructed. "And tell B'Elanna to spread the word. I'll be on a transporter pad in a heartbeat if anyone needs me."

Seven glanced over her shoulder. "Lieutenant Torres is here, if you want to speak with her."

B'Elanna stepped forward, not waiting for Chakotay's response, and leaned over Seven's shoulder toward the com panel. "Chakotay, what the hell happened to you? They wouldn't tell us anything."

"I'm fine. I'm staying with a friend tonight."

"What about the rest of us?"

"I asked them about you, but they wouldn't say anything," he explained. "It doesn't really seem fair – that I get to go free while our friends are dead and you're still on that island."

"You're a free man for the first time in ten years," B'Elanna said with a smile. She knew he was the kind of man who would give up his own freedom for their sake, and she suddenly wanted nothing other than for him to be released from the burden of command. "I'm sure we'll be fine. We still have the captain. You deserve to enjoy yourself a little."

"I could enjoy myself a lot more if I wasn't alone," Chakotay said, flashing his dimples at both women. "Seven, have you ever walked through a jungle at night?"

"No."

"Well, add it to the list."

Seven smiled. "I will. Number eighty-four."

B'Elanna looked between the screen and Seven, clearly out of the loop. "Care to elaborate?"

"It's private," Chakotay said a teasing grin. "Listen, B'Elanna, I know you have a lot on your mind, but you have to give me your word you'll look out for Seven."

"I will," she replied without hesitation. She gave them some space to say their good-byes while contemplating what she had promised. A strange turn of events had befallen them. She, B'Elanna Torres, was avowing to Chakotay, her dearest friend, that she would look out for the Borg ice queen.

"Lieutenant Torres," Seven said, interrupting her thoughts.

B'Elanna sized up the former drone, who was now standing directing in front of her. "I'm not a lieutenant, Seven."

"B'Elanna Torres," Seven corrected, "I wish to ask you about your request that Chakotay serve as the guardian for your infant."

"Okay," B'Elanna said slowly. "What do you want to know, Seven?"

Seven pursed her lips slightly. "We have always had an antagonistic relationship. I suspect you do not want me to be a part of your child's life."

Her bluntness got the better of B'Elanna. "I wouldn't say that, Seven. Tom and I thought Miral would grow up on Voyager, and that would mean you'd be a part of her life. I imagined her playing on the holodeck with Naomi and learning kadis kot from you." She watched as a shadow of a reaction crossed Seven's usually imperturbable face. "I'll bet you weren't expecting me to say that."

"No, I wasn't," Seven admitted quietly. "I was going to tell you that Chakotay and I have decided to live together. He thinks I will enjoy the colony where his sister lives."

"Congratulations."

"And that I hope you will continue to allow him to be a part of your child's life, even if we are co-habitants."

B'Elanna sighed. "Seven, of course, I will. I hope I see both of you often." As they started to exit the main hall, she couldn't resist adding, "I've gotten used to your Borg sense of humor."

"And I've gotten used to your Klingon temper," Seven added without cracking a smile. "I suspect life with Chakotay will be dull by comparison."

B'Elanna laughed freely as they made their way back to the group.

* * *

"What about Dad?" Andrew asked. "Didn't you wonder what had happened to him?"

"It was _Harry_," Tom explained. "We assumed he was with his parents, playing his saxophone and getting tucked into bed by his mom. Her apple pie was all he could talk about for two weeks."

Andrew turned to his father. "Grandma must have been so excited to see you."

Harry nodded. "I can't even begin to describe for you how it felt walking into my parents' house after seven years. It was as though I had lived an entire lifetime in those seven years, but somehow my parents hadn't changed at all. It was really comforting."

"Didn't you feel guilty that your friends were still stuck on Mariana Two?" Miral asked him.

"A little," Harry said carefully. "But mostly I was wrapped up in my own affairs."

"You can say it, Har." Tom looked at Miral and Andrew. "Harry was on the eve of his first promotion ever, he was finally back home, and things were going well for him. Once he was off that island, the last thing he wanted to do was think about the rest of us."

"That's not true," Harry objected. "I was worried about you."

"It's okay, Harry," B'Elanna assured him. "If it had been me, I'd have forgotten all about you."

"Then I guess I'm glad it wasn't you." Harry frowned, trying to explain his position to Andrew and Miral but coming up short. "I was really worried about my friends, but there was very little I could do for them. You have to understand."

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Reg Barclay remembered something. "Miral, Andrew, I never heard what you thought about the twenty-fifth anniversary Voyager holoprogram." He flashed them a smile. "I await your harshest criticisms."

"Actually, Reg," Andrew admitted, cringing, "we never got around to trying it." He watched Reg's face fall. "I'm sorry, Reg, but the line was really long, and we kept bumping into people we had to talk to."

"Why don't you try it now, at our house?" Tom suggested. "I saved a copy of it."

Miral looked between her father and Reg. She knew that both of them – and the Doctor, for that matter – had delicate egos. They wanted her and Andrew to try the program, so they could receive props as the co-creators. But she didn't want to interrupt the storytelling. As often as her family had talked about Voyager, they'd never once talked about what happened in the days immediately following the ship's return. They'd never discussed fears of being sent to prison or, in the Doctor's case, being deactivated. She'd never heard about Harry having a one-night stand or about the dramatic rise in tension between the captain and first officer as the latter began his affair with Seven of Nine. The stories gave her a depth of understanding for her family she'd never had before and made her appreciative that her own career in Starfleet, short as it had been so far, hadn't presented her with any of the trials her parents had faced.

Before she could make a decision, though, B'Elanna spoke up. "It's one in the morning," she informed them all. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use some sleep." She set her drink on the coffee table and rose to her feet. "Tom?"

Tom swallowed the last of his drink before handing the empty glass to Libby. "Good night. Good to see you."

"'Night, buddy," Harry called. "'Night, B'Elanna."

"Good night, Harry," B'Elanna called as she let herself out the door.

Andrew and Miral looked at each other. "I guess that's our cue, too," Andrew said. He and Miral kissed his parents before following hers out the door.

That left Reg. Libby, still reclining in her armchair with Tom's empty glass in her hand, looked at Reg in amazement. Harry stood in the center of the living room with his hands on his hips, looking between his wife and friend. After he gave Reg a minute to call it a night on his own terms, he prodded ever so gently, "Reg, get out."

"Oh," Barclay said, suddenly catching his social faux pas and making his way toward the door, "I'm sorry. Good night."

"Bye, Reg," Libby called sweetly after him. "It's always a pleasure seeing you."

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"I don't understand why we couldn't just go home," Miral grumbled, laying down her hairbrush. Andrew threw her pajamas at her head, upsetting the hard work of her brush. She donned the pajamas and smoothed her hair back into place, shooting daggers at Andrew in the mirror. "It doesn't take that long to get to Lisbon. It's weird sleeping in my old room."

"You mean it's weird sleeping in your old room _with me_," Andrew corrected, pulling his own pajamas on. "Didn't you see the look on your mom's face when I said we'd just grab your bags and go? She really wanted us to stay here."

Miral rolled her eyes as she climbed into the small bed. "We probably don't even fit on this narrow mattress."

"We didn't have any trouble that weekend your parents went to Borneo," he reminded her as he got in beside her. He kissed her just below her ear, causing her to flinch with a giggle. But his efforts at tickling her were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in."

Tom opened the door slowly, balancing a tray with two mugs in one hand. "I thought you might like some hot cocoa before bed."

"Dad," Miral protested, but affectionately, "are you trying to spy on us?" She patted the foot of the bed.

Tom sat down, settling the tray onto the mattress carefully. "Abstinence is an underappreciated virtue."

"I thought you wanted grandchildren," she reminded him with an indulgent smile.

"I do, but medical science can do amazing things."

Miral grinned, accepting one of the mugs from him. "What's this cocoa really about?"

Tom handed the other mug to Andrew. "I was getting ready for bed when I remembered the first time I saw my dad in person after Voyager returned. I thought you might want to hear about it."

"Excellent," Andrew said with appreciation. "We'll ask him to corroborate your story tomorrow when we see him."

"Hmm, I hope there are a few things you don't repeat to him. The way B'Elanna remembers it, he was the one making all of the effort. I was busy being a jerk."

* * *

**Debriefings – Day Two**

"Following lunch you are scheduled for a meeting with Admiral Paris in his office," the cadet explained. "Ms. Torres will also be present." He led Tom to the replicators on the wall, watched him order tomato soup, and then followed him to a table and stood at parade rest at his elbow.

It was unnerving to Tom that someone half his age was giving him orders. In a way, he supposed, it was a good sign. If they really thought he was a danger to the Federation, they would have assigned experienced officers – more than one – to watch over him. It was more unnerving, though, that he was about to see his father in person for the first time in nearly ten years. _I wonder how long I can take eating this soup. Maybe he'll have to go home for the day._

The doors to the canteen swished open, and someone who, like him, was in an old uniform entered with another cadet on her tail. Even if she hadn't been sticking out in her Voyager jumpsuit, Tom would have recognized B'Elanna by the shape of her body. He watched as she and her "escort" followed the same routine, up to the replicators and then to a table.

Tom turned to the cadet hovering at his side. "That's my wife, Cadet. I'd like to eat lunch with her."

The cadet wavered for a minute. Clearly this request was not in the set of orders he'd been given. "I'm not sure…"

Tom nearly threw his bowl of soup on the boy's head. "Am I in prison, Cadet, or being debriefed?" Before the cadet had time to think of an answer, he called loudly, "B'Elanna! Over here!"

She turned around and caught sight of him, her small frame relaxing visibly as she did. Tom could see her exchange curt words with the cadet who'd been assigned to her, and then she hurried across the room to him. She put her tray down on Tom's table, forcing the two hovering cadets to move out of her way as she took the seat opposite him.

Under the table Tom rubbed her calf a few times with his boot. "You heard about the next meeting?"

She nodded. "Do you want to talk to him alone before he meets me?"

"No," he determined, "I need you there."

"What do you think he wants to talk about?"

Tom frowned. "I have no idea."

They didn't say much else during lunch. When they finished, they were escorted hastily back to the main lobby. The foursome then moved around a corner, down several other corridors, and at last into Admiral Paris's office. His assistant Nicole nodded brusquely at them as she opened the door to the private inner office.

Tom and B'Elanna entered quickly, happily leaving their guardians behind. The admiral was waiting for them. He came around his desk to them, sizing them up for a moment. B'Elanna couldn't help noticing the practiced way Tom stared forward, preventing any response from escaping his usually expressive eyes.

Admiral Paris suddenly relaxed. "Son," he said warmly, coercing a hug out of him.

"Hi, Dad." Tom's voice was a little uncertain, and he didn't lean his body into the embrace. But when he and the admiral parted, B'Elanna could tell his carefully constructed shield had lowered.

"Hello, Admiral," she said, offering her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise," he told her, shaking her hand with a firm grip. "You can call me Owen. Or Dad. Whatever makes you comfortable."

B'Elanna wasn't sure that either choice made her comfortable. "Owen" seemed too familiar, as if they were friends. "Dad" was – well, that was far too loaded a term for her to consider. Someday, maybe. "Admiral" was too formal, and he obviously intended for their relationship to be something other than officer to officer. She decided to avoid direct address for the time being.

"How have they been treating you?"

"I've lived through worse," she answered truthfully.

"Why don't you two sit down?" he suggested. He went to the other side of the desk, jostling it with his knees and sending a small photograph tumbling to the floor.

B'Elanna picked it up, stopping in surprise when saw it. It was a photograph of Tom in a cadet's uniform. Her eyes met Admiral Paris's, and she hastily returned the frame to the desk. In that split-second of eye contact, though, she understood a lot more about her husband's father than Tom could ever convey to her. He may have pushed Tom too hard as a child, and he may have been distant, favoring work over involvement in his son's life, but it was clear that Admiral Paris, deep down, loved Tom a great deal more than he was able to admit.

"So you're a family man now, Thomas?"

Tom sat with a rigid spine. All the progress he and his father had made in letters and coms was quickly coming undone in person. B'Elanna knew his standoffishness was just a defense mechanism, and she almost felt sorry that he didn't see what she did. "That's right, I am."

"Are you happy?"

"As long as I remain with my wife and daughter, yes."

B'Elanna suppressed a smile, remembering what an absolute pig Tom had once been. There was a time when no one could have made him happy, when he was content to be miserable, pushing everyone away and pretending to enjoy it that way. She was proud of the way he'd changed since their first days on Voyager. The admiral was right; he really had become a family man.

Not getting anywhere with his son, Admiral Paris turned to B'Elanna. "So you named the baby after your Klingon mother?" he asked with polite curiosity.

"That's right."

"I don't know much about Klingon children," he admitted. "I'm not sure I'll be a very good grandfather in that department." B'Elanna could tell he was as nervous as they were, struggling to make conversation, not really sure which subjects were safe to discuss. She gave him credit for trying, at least.

Tom didn't. "What does her being Klingon have to do with anything?"

"I wasn't –" the admiral began as B'Elanna said, "Tom, he wasn't –" They both stopped.

After an awkward moment Owen said quietly, "I've kept all your letters, son. I've reread them several times. Especially the one about getting demoted."

This made Tom soften a fraction. "I just wanted you to understand that I've changed. I still make mistakes, but it's not the same."

"It's clear to me that you've changed," his father assured him. He turned to B'Elanna. "How about you, B'Elanna?"

"Of course she's changed," Tom snapped. "Hell, it's been seven years!"

"Tom, he didn't mean it like that," B'Elanna said gently, but Tom's eyes were fixed on his father. She had seen him like this before. When he made up his mind about something, he had a tendency to push her away, rather than letting her talk him down. When the Klingons had challenged his honor, for instance, and she'd tried to intervene, he'd given her a cold "Stay out of this" that had left her feeling discarded. A year before that, before they were married, she tried to help him with some awful traumatic memories he'd had of killing a group of civilians, the Starfleet officer in her rationalizing that the memories could have been implanted and the girlfriend in her wanting to provide comfort from his mental anguish. He'd screamed at her and told her that sifting through the trauma was something he wanted to do without her. That had stung. Now B'Elanna saw the same thing happening again. He had already determined that he needed to protect himself – and her and Miral – from his father, and he wasn't going to let either of them convince him there was no threat. His inability to let her in saddened B'Elanna. She couldn't really fault him; she had a tendency to do the same thing. But it was one of the things about their marriage that disappointed her.

"You don't know anything about our lives," Tom continued coldly.

"I know I don't, son," his father agreed, refusing to back down. He held Tom's stare effectively. "That's why I wanted to talk with you. I want to get to know you again."

There was a long pause while Tom seemed to measure the sincerity of his father's words. Knowing that anything she said would be summarily dismissed, B'Elanna opted to place a hand on his knee, hoping to convey through her touch that it was safe to believe his father.

"It's been a long time since we were close, son," Admiral Paris continued with careful calculation. "I want to change that. I'd like to be part of your life again, and part of B'Elanna's and Miral's. I don't expect things to change overnight, but I'd like to start trying."

For an excruciating moment Tom was silent. Then he nodded slowly. "I'd like that, too."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence, 2403**

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" Harry said as he climbed into bed beside his wife. "Tomorrow we'll wake up with sunshine coming in the windows."

"I don't know," Libby disagreed. "I'm starting to think of our quarters on the Rhode Island as home. We don't really need to keep this place, you know. This is the first time in almost three years we've been here."

Harry lay back against the pillows with a groan. "But it's been home for a long time. I like having some place to come back to. You haven't lived on a ship for very long, Libs. Trust me, it's good to have a sense of permanence."

"Whatever you say, Harry," she said with evident condescension. She kissed his cheek before settling comfortably against the pillows and closing her eyes. "I can't believe all those stories we were telling the kids tonight."

"I can't believe you told them I slept with Jenkins," Harry protested as he turned out the lights. "Or that you even remember that story in the first place."

"I keep track of all your sexual conquests," she mumbled.

"Well, it's one thing to tell my wife something in confidence. It's another to have her tell my son and daughter-in-law."

"Oh, come on, Harry, it was one time. Don't you think they've ever had sex with someone and regretted it later?"

"I'd prefer not to think about Andrew's sex life."

Libby opened her eyes. "Honey, why is this such a big deal?"

Harry rolled onto his side to face her. "Because I never told you the whole story," he admitted. "It wasn't just that one time."

* * *

**Earth, Toronto, Jenkins Family Residence, 2378**

Harry wasn't sure what he expected to happen. He thought perhaps they'd spend a few hours talking or, at most, indulge in a few comforting kisses. He never anticipated this.

When he had arrived at Michaela Jenkins' door, the fires of passion had consumed them both so strongly that they did not even say hello to each other. Harry had propelled himself into her parents' apartment – into her mouth – and removed his uniform before what he was doing had fully registered. Jenkins had struggled with her own clothing, until Harry ripped it off her. In a fever they made it to her bedroom, to her bed, knocking over everything in their path. Nothing existed except the fusion of their bodies and then, finally, sleep.

Jenkins was still sleeping next to him, still nude, only partially covered by the sheet.

Harry had awakened a few minutes before and sat up in bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, contemplating what had happened. He gazed down at her, feeling slightly guilty. It had been savage and carnal. There were no tender words or expressions of love. He wasn't naïve enough to think that sex always had to be about love, but it was downright indecent for it not to be at all about caring for the other person. He wondered how Jenkins would respond to him when she awoke.

* * *

"Hey," Libby said softly, laying a hand aside his cheek, "your friends were under investigation, and you were thrust into a new environment, and you needed comfort. There's nothing wrong that."

"That's what she said."

* * *

**Toronto, Café des Artistes, 2378**

"Harry, if you're upset about what happened the other day, don't be," Jenkins said. "It happened. We needed a release. It's okay."

Harry squinted across the table at her in the sunlight, wondering why he'd agreed to meet her for lunch. What had been an innocent encounter between two lonely people on Mariana Two had turned into something insidious, and although he had apologized profusely before beating a speedy retreat out of her house (before Captain Jenkins got home), Harry wasn't sure he should be meeting with her again.

"Really? You didn't feel…used?"

Jenkins' eyes bulged slightly. "Harry, sometimes that's what's fun."

Harry was surprised. _Conduct unbecoming a Starfleet officer_, he thought. He had never imagined Jenkins to be a lascivious person, and he certainly had not been raised to think of defiling anyone the way he had done to her a few days before. To hear that she enjoyed it was…exhilarating.

"So you're not upset?" he asked carefully. "Hurt?" _There wasn't even any cuddling._

"No," she said readily. "Are you? Do you need this to mean more than it did?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. Jenkins was pretty, sure, and he liked her. But he didn't necessarily feel anything for her. It was strange. He'd had such a run of bad luck with women over the past seven years that a casual sexual encounter with no strings attached and no hurt feelings on either end was a fantasy. _A very naughty fantasy. _No, he didn't need Jenkins to be anything more than that, and if they didn't continue seeing each other, it didn't matter. Maybe she had cured him of his bad dating streak.

"Nope," he determined. He reached across the table for her hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "I'm happy just to be friends."

"Great," she agreed. She made a slight face. "Can I tell you something honestly? I'm really glad to see you lightening up. You were always so uptight on Voyager. And you were always getting involved with the wrong women."

"Jenkins, are you trying to say you're the right woman?" he teased, dropping her hand so she would know he wasn't serious.

She scoffed with equal playfulness. "I'm just saying that a little abandon goes a long way toward improving one's disposition."

* * *

"She sounds like a smart woman to me," Libby said. "I can't believe you thought you needed to keep that a secret."

"I didn't think you needed to know that side of me."

"Harry, I would _love_ to know that side of you." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Now go to sleep and stop worrying about the past. There's nothing you can do to change it now. And the way you tell it, there's not a whole lot to regret, anyway."

* * *

**Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

The house was dark by the time she got home, and Kathryn Janeway pulled off her dress uniform without turning on the lights. She hastily threw a nightgown over her head and climbed into bed, trying not to shake the mattress. She drew up beside the form sleeping on his side, pressing against his back, and he shifted slightly, pulling her arm snugly around his chest.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Chakotay answered. "How was the reception?"

"Predictable." She kissed the back of his neck and worked her way slowly across his face, until Chakotay rolled onto his back and she kissed him legitimately on the lips. His arms came around her, holding her on top of him, as he returned her affections. "Mmm, you're sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Chakotay repeated with some annoyance. "I was going to wait up for you, but the medication is making me tired."

Kathryn combed her fingers through the gray hair at his temple. "Everyone was asking about you. The Doctor brought a new girlfriend."

"Another soprano?"

"A fashion designer this time. She's beautiful."

She was quiet for a moment, still gently touching his hair and looking at it, rather than into his eyes. "Hey," Chakotay whispered, trying to recapture her attention. He took her hand away from his hair and kissed her wrist at the pulse point. "You look like you have something on your mind."

"Everyone was telling stories about our homecoming tonight," Kathryn explained. She slid off him and onto her back. "I guess I was feeling a little…guilty."

"Twenty-five years is a long time to keep a secret."

"Does that mean it's time to tell?"

Chakotay rolled onto his side to face her. "No," he said quietly, "I mean the opposite. What good would it do anyone to know now? You can't change the past. You can only change what they know about it."

"Hmm," she said contemplatively. She pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed over them both. "You should get some sleep."

Chakotay yawned in spite of himself, protesting, "All I've done all night is sleep." But he pulled the blanket up to his chin anyway.

"I'm going into the office in the morning," Kathryn said, giving him one final kiss. "I'll be gone when you wake up."

"Don't stay out all day," he mumbled as his eyes closed involuntarily. "I miss you when you're gone."

* * *

**San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"Good morning, Drew," B'Elanna greeted her son-in-law as he stumbled into the kitchen. She foisted a raktajino at him. "Here. This'll wake you up."

"Thanks," he muttered, raising the mug to his lips. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I could use about three more hours of sleep."

"Why are you up so early? You're on vacation."

Andrew grunted. "Miral. Apparently she's taken to going running before her morning shift. And she's not quiet when she gets up."

B'Elanna suppressed a smile. As a child Andrew had always been agreeable, but since he and Miral had gotten married, some of her moodiness seemed to be rubbing off on him.

"Look who's finally awake," Tom teased as he and Miral burst in through the back door. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily, but he kissed B'Elanna and stole a drink of her coffee anyway. "We went for a run in the park," he explained.

"I can see that," B'Elanna said. "Judging by your appearance, I'd say you had a hard time keeping up with her?"

"He's not so bad," Miral declared, "for an old man."

"Hey, you're not so bad for a munchkin," Tom retorted.

"Where did you come up with that name, anyway?" Andrew wondered.

Tom's face lit up. "Actually, it started while the Voyager crew was still in quarantine. Let's get some breakfast, and I'll tell you the story."

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Eleven**

While the Kim-tones were playing at Talent Night, Miral began to squirm in B'Elanna's arms. She looked down and saw that the infant's face was red and her eyes were clenched shut – telltale signs she was about to start crying. "Red alert," she whispered to Tom as she scrambled off the log and a few paces away from the fire so they wouldn't disturb the band. She moved the baby to her shoulder and rubbed her back. "What's the matter? You don't like Uncle Harry's music?" As if on cue, Miral began to scream.

B'Elanna moved farther away, shushing Miral as she swayed from side to side. As Miral continued to wail, Tom looked over at them in concern. B'Elanna shook her head as if to tell him they were fine, and he reluctantly turned back to the fire as Harry took a seat beside him.

After Tuvok finished his comedy routine, Gallagher, Gennaro, Gibson, and Grimes were on. They began to harmonize together without accompaniment, and Miral's crying declined to a whimper. By the end of their second song, during which Grimes sustained a bass note for several long seconds, Miral had settled. B'Elanna returned to the fire circle.

"What was it?" Tom asked as the group applauded for the quartet.

"I don't know," she replied. "Maybe she liked their singing."

Later that night B'Elanna was in the shower in their cabin when Miral started up again. Tom checked her diaper, but she didn't need to be changed. He tried feeding her. He held her to his shoulder, her head nestled against his cheek, but nothing placated her. He decided to test B'Elanna's theory. The only song that came to mind that was similar to the Four Gs' singing was one he'd heard over the radio in the Grease Monkey holoprogram.

"Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it's time to go. Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it's time to go. I hate to leave you, but I really must say, 'Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight."

B'Elanna emerged from the bathroom, and Tom put a finger to his lips as he continued the song for another minute. When he was confident Miral was asleep, he slowly lowered her back into the baby bed.

"What was that?" B'Elanna asked as she put on her red pajamas.

_I can't wait until she fits into that blue silk thing again._ "Apparently you were right. We have to sing her to sleep." He dimmed the lights. "You have to learn the back-up vocals. The song doesn't sound right with just one singer."

"Get Harry to do it," she responded reflexively.

"B'Elanna," Tom protested as he climbed into bed beside her, "she's your daughter."

"And I love her, which is why I'm not going to torture her by singing to her." She pecked him on the cheek and turned onto her side away from him. "But it's sweet that you want to."

* * *

"So the next day, I gave Harry a copy of the song, and the rest is history."

"Not quite," B'Elanna interrupted. "Once I listened to the whole song and discovered what it was actually about, I tried to talk them out of it. But the two of them were convinced you didn't care about the words, just the melody, and they got the Doctor to agree with them. He had Seven give me a lecture on the 'soothing properties' of the lullaby."

"Dad, I remember you and Harry singing that song to me and L'Naan when we used to go camping every year," Miral said. "But how does that explain my nickname?"

"Ugh," her mother, closing her eyes in disgust. "I tried to get him to call you _anything_ but 'munchkin.' But he was determined."

* * *

**Mariana Two, 2378 – Quarantine Day Thirteen**

"Come on, Miral, calm down, you're okay, honey." Tom bounced lightly at the knees, his eyes clenched shut. He was exhausted, but his well-deserved nap was on hold until his daughter went to sleep – and she'd been crying steadily for twenty minutes. "Is this a Klingon thing, sweetheart? Because Daddy already knows you have three lungs, and he's very impressed. You don't have to show off." He moved Miral from his shoulder to his arms and tried to rock her from side to side. "Do you want to hear the song?" She let out a piercing wail then, which he took as a sign she didn't. "Maybe you just want to laugh instead?" He made a few faces at her, and she calmed slightly.

Tom carried her to one of the chairs in the living area, sat down, and stretched his long legs onto the table. He settled Miral onto his chest. "Come on, little warrior, it's time to stop." He looked at her. "Oh, you liked that? Hmm, you're too young to be a warrior, though. I think your mother would kill me if I tried to teach you Klingon martial arts so soon. You're too little. You're just a munchkin."

Miral looked at him, and Tom was convinced she understood. "You're a munchkin," he repeated, "like in that movie." He grinned. "You stopped crying, munchkin."

"What's a 'munchkin'?" B'Elanna asked.

"A genetically short person. It's an old word from a movie."

"You're calling our daughter a politically incorrect name from a movie?"

"She likes it," Tom insisted. He held Miral up in the air. "Right, munchkin?" Tom laid her on his legs and tickled her tummy, and Miral made a gurgling noise.

"Tom, she's a person, not a toy."

"Dads are supposed to give their daughters goofy names. Didn't your dad ever call you anything embarrassing?"

"He called me difficult, and then he left." B'Elanna held up a hand as she sat down beside him. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Me too," he said quietly.

"Look, if you're not happy with her real name, we could rename her."

"No," Tom protested, "I love her name. I just don't want to use it all the time."

"And if we ever have another daughter?"

"I could call her 'small fry,'" Tom said with a grin. B'Elanna frowned.

* * *

"Well, once your sister was born, 'squirt' seemed more appropriate," Tom explained to them, as if the choice made perfect sense. "Andrew, I tried to get your dad to call you 'pipsqueak,' but he refused."

"I'm glad."

"So are you two heading home today?" B'Elanna decided to change the subject. Tom had turned out to be a great father, and she had really lightened up after years of being with him. But there were some things – embarrassing nicknames, for one – that she would never get on board with. She was glad he'd never made the mistake of trying to bestow one on her.

"Actually, we're going to Grandpa's house," Miral announced as she placed her half-eaten banana pancakes into the recycler. She looked at the chronometer. "I gotta go. I still need to take a shower, and it's already nine."

* * *

**Residence of Admiral Owen Paris**

Owen Paris was nothing if not reliable, a fact Miral was counting on when she and Andrew arrived on his doorstep at 1000. If she was right, he would have risen at 0800, eaten breakfast, gotten dressed, and spent exactly thirty minutes reading the newsfeeds before his daily 1000 walk to the park. Even in his advanced age, her grandfather liked to stay active, and he despised going to the park alone. Miral hoped that if she and Andrew accompanied him, he would shed some light on the story of Voyager's return along the way.

"Why are you so obsessed with this?" Andrew asked as they waited for the old man to open the door for them.

"I don't know, Drew. I've never heard these stories before, and now that I've started hearing them, I _have to_ hear the rest of it." She patiently knocked on the door again. "Grandpa? Are you home? It's me, Miral."

"And Andrew."

Miral tried the door, and finding it unlocked, she opened it. "Grandpa? Hello?"

"I'm coming, young lady," Owen Paris called from across the living room. "Do you always come barging into people's houses just because it takes them a minute to open the door?"

Miral paid no heed, kissing him on the cheek. "I was worried something had happened to you. Are you getting ready for the park?"

"It's 1000, isn't it?"

Miral smiled. "It sure is. I was wondering if you'd let us join you."

"That would be lovely. It's always good to see my favorite granddaughter."

Now Miral rolled her eyes. "Grandpa, you call all of us your favorites." She took his arm, expediting their procession to the door. "Andrew and I were hoping if you'd tell us a little about what happened when Voyager came home."

"You must have been at the party last night." They nodded. "I wanted to be there, but then your aunt came over and insisted I eat dinner with her instead."

_Probably because she knows you have no business going out alone._ "It was pretty spectacular," she told him as they stepped out of the house.

Andrew pulled the door closed behind them. "Admiral, everyone was telling us about the Voyager debriefings. We wanted to know if you were involved in them."

Admiral Paris regarded the boy for a moment as he thought. "I seem to remember some trouble with Captain Janeway when Voyager arrived at McKinley Station, but after my initial conversation with her, I was put onto a different project. They thought I'd go easy on the crew because the conn officer was my son."

"They must not have known you very well then," Miral teased.

The old man's eyes lit up with delight at his granddaughter's ribbing. "The next thing I really remember was the day your parents came to see me in my office."

"Dad said he was a jerk that day."

"So he's able to admit when he's wrong now?"

"Grandpa."

But the admiral laughed merrily. "He tested me, all right. But if I wasn't able to make peace with him, I'd never have heard the end of it from your grandmother and aunts." He looked over at Andrew. "I think Harry was a good influence on him."

"Kim men are certainly upstanding," Miral added. "Drew, can you ever imagine your dad getting into half the trouble my dad did?"

"My dad?" Andrew said skeptically. "No way."

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

She knew she shouldn't be at work, not after the exhausting evening before and not on a rare pretty spring day. But the reception last night, which everyone had expected to give her cause for triumph, had left her with an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She stood at the window overlooking the bay, hands clasped behind her back, and tried not to let the memories of those events twenty-five years ago affect her concentration. She was here to work, after all, not ruminate.

She followed the passage of one ship slipping across the bay, and when it was beyond her range of vision, she turned back to her desk. She picked up a padd and began reviewing Captain McBride's latest logs. After a few minutes, though, she could sense that she wasn't alone in her office and looked up.

"I thought you might be here."

"Oh, Kathy, can't I do anything to surprise you anymore?"

She smiled indulgently. "Q, there was a time when everything you did surprised me. Why are you sitting in my office, staring at me while I work?"

"I thought you needed a little company," Q explained, draping himself across her desk. "You're battling those proverbial demons of the past, aren't you?"

Janeway nodded and set the data padd down. "Last night we had Voyager's twenty-fifth anniversary party, and everyone was sharing stories about our homecoming." She shook her head a little. "I remember thinking in those days that it would be the end of us as a group. That we'd all go our separate ways. But instead –"

"Instead your pups have all stayed close to home," Q finished. "They never fully weaned."

"Q," she warned, "don't call them pups."

He sat up and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, I don't see the problem. You wanted them to keep loving you, and they do. They're utterly devoted to you. Unless…" His eyes lit up. "Oh, Kathy, don't tell me you never told them?"

"No, I didn't." Q wasn't exactly the ideal confessor, but she certainly couldn't talk to any of her inner circle, and she trusted him not to reveal her secrets – he probably didn't care enough about the "lowly mortals" to bother, anyway.

"Isn't this an interesting turn of events?" Q said smugly. He began pacing in front of her desk with his arms folded across his chest. "All these years you've lectured me on moral certitude, and now it seems you're the one who can't even abide by her own standards."

Janeway couldn't argue. "So what would you do if you were me, Q? Just a simple biped?"

Q opened his mouth to say something but caught himself. He wagged a finger at her with a smile. Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Janeway picked up the padd and began reading again, but she still couldn't concentrate. After a few minutes, she rose and resumed her position staring out the window at the bay.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence, 2403**

"How's the admiral?" Libby asked before planting a kiss on her son's cheek.

"He's the same as always," Drew reported, snatching an apple from a bowl on the kitchen counter. He tossed it to Miral and then chose another for himself.

"We're eating lunch in five minutes, you two," Libby admonished, but Miral and Andrew both bit noisily into their apples anyway. "By the way, Admiral Janeway sent us a message. Instead of meeting with me and your father, she invited us – all of us – to the farm tomorrow. She promised a home-cooked country breakfast."

"Great," Miral said between bites of her apple.

"And Reg and the Doctor want to come over for dinner tonight, but only if you both promise to be here."

"What?" Andrew asked.

Libby nodded. "It seems they like having your attention, and they want to continue the saga over plates of my pot roast. I think you created a monster – two monsters."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen. He grabbed an apple and buffed it on his shirtfront, but Libby snatched it away from his hands and returned it to the bowl.

"Lunch is in five minutes," she said sternly.

"But Drew got an apple," he protested. "Who's a monster?"

"Reg and the Doc. They're coming over for dinner tonight."

"Aw, Libs, come on. We just saw them last night. I was hoping for some peace and quiet before we leave."

But his wife held her ground. "They're two of your best friends," she reminded him. "And I already promised them I'd make pot roast."

"I was hoping you'd make chicken tonight." The disappointment in Harry's voice rose to a fever pitch. "Can't you cancel?"

"Dad, they're coming to tell me and Miral more about Voyager," Andrew reported. "You can just replicate something to eat in your office if you don't want to have dinner with us."

Harry frowned. "No, they'll tell you all the details wrong." He sighed heavily. "Then tomorrow we're not going anywhere," he said firmly to Libby. "Just you and me – alone."

"Sorry, love, I promised the admiral we'd go to the farm for breakfast with everyone else."

Harry looked as though he were being phasered on a low setting. "Glad to see I have any say around here."

* * *

"More pot roast, Reg?" Libby offered with one hand poised on the serving fork.

"No, thank you." He patted his stomach. "I don't have room for any more. Delicious as always."

"Thanks." She set the heavy platter on the table, which was covered in half-finished servings of food and messy plates.

Reg leaned back in his chair. "Now, last night we were talking about Voyager's debriefings, right?"

"Right," Miral confirmed. "But we haven't heard anything about the Doctor's hearing."

Reg nodded thoughtfully. "It started on the fourth day."

"By that time," the Doctor explained, "a number of the crew had already been debriefed and were beginning to scatter across the quadrant."

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Four**

Many of the junior officers had finished their debriefings and were off to see their families. Some were headed for future careers in Starfleet, thanks in part to Janeway's recommendations and their own stellar efforts on the other side of the galaxy. Some had decided that they'd had enough gallivanting about space and had resigned. The former Maquis who had thus far been interrogated – except Chakotay and B'Elanna – had been relatively minor players. None had been arrested for treason, and none were asked if they wished to continue in Starfleet. This suited both Starfleet and the individuals just fine.

Samantha Wildman had asked the captain to arrange for Naomi to be debriefed, and for the half-hour that she sat in front of Starfleet's finest and recounted her time as the unofficial captain's assistant on Voyager, Naomi was elated. After listening earnestly to her, Admiral Halsey awarded her the Civilian Commendation. That sent Naomi over the edge, and when she and her mother disembarked the civilian transport on Ktaris, their reunion with Greskrendtgrek was pure euphoria.

Mortimer Harren was as sullen as ever during his debriefing, though, under threat from Celes and Telfer, he didn't say an unkind word about the captain or his experience on Voyager. He doubted either of his former shipmates could or would harm him, but his own conscience got the better of him. Captain Janeway had sent him a courtesy copy of the recommendation she wrote for the Institute of Cosmology on Orion I, and he'd had to admit to himself that she wasn't all bad. The institute had granted him admission, and by the end of day four he was already en route.

Renlay Sharr, on a temporary leave of absence, along with Gerron, Celes, Tabor, Jor, and Ken Dalby, boarded the Rio Bravo, which was headed for Deep Space Nine. From there they would join the Bajoran humanitarian mission to Cardassia Prime. When Captain Janeway heard about their plans, she was overwhelmed – Chakotay, too. The Voyager crew, Janeway had declared, would go down in history not just for its exploration of uncharted space but for its great kindness and dedication to the principles by which the Federation had been founded. Given that most of the group were not Federation citizens by birth or Starfleet officers by training, Chakotay thought it was a testament to their captain's compassionate leadership over the previous seven years.

The Equinox crew, having already been stripped of rank by Captain Janeway, were given the choice to remain in Starfleet as noncommissioned officers or to depart, without further penalty, for civilian life. Brian Sofin and Angelo Tassoni opted for the latter, but Marla Gilmore, Noah Lessing, and James Morrow decided to continue in Starfleet – perhaps as a way to redeem themselves. Thanks in part to letters of recommendation from their department chiefs and Captain Janeway, they each received a new assignment and were headed off to start anew.

Harry Kim received the promotion that was a long time coming. _Lieutenant Kim_, he thought with a smile as he affixed the new solid pip to his collar. _It has a nice ring to it._ He was going to stay in San Francisco. Working at headquarters wouldn't grant him the opportunity to have as many adventures as he'd have on a starship, but Harry thought that after seven years in the Delta Quadrant, being able to visit friends and family on a regular basis might do him some good. He was also thinking about his future: by working so closely to the brass, he could make certain his name stayed in front of their faces. He was determined that his next promotion wasn't going to take seven years to achieve.

Tuvok had also received his new assignment. He was going to serve as head of security at 40 Eridani A Starfleet Construction Yards. It promised to be a relatively stable position, and it would be easy for Tuvok to visit his family on Vulcan as often as logic prescribed.

With so many of his former crew flying through the debriefings, and at B'Elanna's urging, Chakotay decided to leave Earth. On the fourth day of the debriefings, he and Seven of Nine took a civilian transport ship together, their final space voyage before settling into a bucolic lifestyle on Kairos III.

* * *

**Starfleet Academy, Dormitory**

Icheb stood in the middle of the hall with a duffel bag over his shoulder. The corridor was long, and every room looked the same. He wasn't exactly certain where he was supposed to be heading. Starting the Academy in the middle of the summer term wasn't desirable. Given Voyager's unique circumstances, however, he'd been granted approval, and he was eager to seize it, even it meant that he'd be months behind the other cadets in adjusting to life on campus. Tom Paris had assured him that the social aspects of Academy life may be difficult for him but that he'd have no trouble at all catching up on the academics. And Captain Janeway had reminded him that the newly appointed Lieutenant Kim was always nearby if he needed a little guidance.

"You look a little lost," a young brunette said sympathetically. "Can I help you find your room?"

"Thank you." He handed her the padd containing his entrance data.

"You're this way," she said, starting down the hall. "I don't recognize your species. I haven't taken exobiology yet, but I consider myself pretty good at identifying people."

"I'm Brunali," Icheb told her.

"Brunali? I've never heard of that species."

"My species is from the Delta Quadrant," he began to explain, sensing that this would be a story he'd have to tell every time he met someone new.

"You're one of the Voyager people?" she guessed. "You're one of the Borg?"

"Yes."

"My cousin was assimilated ten years ago. My aunt still talks about it."

Icheb wasn't exactly sure how to respond. He began thinking through a series of things he could say, but fortunately she began talking again, taking the pressure off him.

"So what are you going to study here?"

"I've been studying astrometrics and genetics," he told her, "but I would like to expand my abilities to serve as a bridge officer."

"High aspirations." She paused in front of one of the doors. "This is you."

"Thank you for your assistance."

"Sure. I'm Alex, by the way." She extended her hand, and he shook it. "And you're…"

"Icheb," he finished.

"Well, Icheb, some of us are going to get some lunch in a little bit. Do you want to come? Since it's your first day, it might be good to meet some people."

Icheb nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Alex nodded back. "I'll come find you in a few minutes."

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters, Debriefings – Day Four**

"Reg!" the Doctor exclaimed with relief as he saw a familiar face in a new-issue uniform heading toward him. "I knew you'd come!"

"Of course, as soon as I heard they were granting you a hearing," Reg Barclay said.

"What about Dr. Zimmerman?"

Barclay shook his head. "He couldn't get away, but he sent a statement." He held up a padd. "Don't worry, Doctor. We're going to win."

"I hope so," the Doctor said. "I don't want to be decompiled. And I don't want to waste my talents. I'm a Doctor, not a dilithium miner."

* * *

"Am I entitled to counsel?" the emergency medical hologram asked. He had been running for several days, and though he couldn't physically tire, his personality subroutines did allow for him to get very annoyed.

Two admirals consulted each other. It was custom to allow counsel at any kind of hearing, but typically for humanoids in need of protection from incriminating themselves. To allow a hologram counsel would be to admit it was a humanoid, which would thereby predetermine the course of the hearings.

"Excuse me, Admiral," Commander Maddox intervened. "The Judge Advocate General allowed Data to have counsel at his hearing. It's only fitting that the Doctor be entitled to the same."

"Very well, Commander," the presiding admiral said. "Doctor, you may have the benefit of counsel."

"Thank goodness we already have precedent," the Doctor remarked, "lest this proceeding take even longer."

"Doctor," Reg reminded him in a singsong voice, "they're they ones who determine your fate."

The Doctor recoiled slightly. "Commander Maddox, since you are the most obvious choice, will you serve as my counsel?"

"The last time I was at one of these hearings, I was on the other side of that table," Maddox pointed out. "I don't know much about holograms – I specialize in android technology – and I don't know your personal history very well. I think someone who knows you better might be more appropriate."

The Doctor looked at Reg for a moment, knowing that his new friend would champion his rights but wondering just how eloquently he'd be able to do it. Before he could hurt Reg's tender feelings, though, Reg thankfully said, "Doctor, I think I should just stick to being a witness."

"Very well," he said to the arbitration panel, "I choose Captain Kathryn Janeway to represent me."

* * *

"B'Elanna, daughter of Miral, I am pleased to meet you. I have read much about your service on Voyager."

B'Elanna craned her neck upward at the imposing Klingon who had just stepped within centimeters of her. She thought she was tough – everyone thought she was tough – it was her reputation as the half-Klingon crew member. But staring up at Worf, she realized she was merely a twig he could snap in half with a pat on the back. _Glad he's on my side._ "Hello."

"Be seated," he commanded, gesturing to the table and chairs in front of them. B'Elanna did as instructed. Worf consulted a padd for a moment and then got down to business. "Your mother did not forfeit her Klingon citizenship when she moved to a Federation colony. As a result, you have the right to petition the empire for citizenship if you are asked to leave Federation space. I will recommend to Chancellor Martok and the High Council that your petition be accepted, if that is what you desire."

_Asked to leave Federation space? What the hell?_ B'Elanna wasn't exactly sure what her meeting with Worf was going to entail when she saw it on her schedule, but she was not expecting a strategy for political asylum. "The Klingon Empire will take me in?" she repeated, trying the words out in her mouth. "Wouldn't that upset their relationship with the Federation, if they had just kicked me out?"

Worf studied her face for a moment. "I do not think you appreciate the gravity of your situation."

"Oh, I do, believe me," B'Elanna replied. "Apparently, the Klingon Empire felt the need to send you here to protect me from my imminent exile from Federation space – which is great, considering I just spent seven years trying to get back here." She sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not really empire material."

Worf scowled. Based on their five minutes together, he had to agree with her, yet still she managed to make it sound like a good thing. He sensed an underlying insult that he couldn't abide. "Being a part of the Klingon Empire," he informed her with a slight growl, "means being a warrior who follows in the tradition of Kahless. If you are asked to leave Federation space, you would do well to live in such an honorable tradition."

_He sounds like my mother_, B'Elanna thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Then something occurred to her. "Weren't you raised among humans?"

"Yes," he answered, "I was raised adoptive parents on Gault. Then later we moved to Minsk."

"Minsk?" she exclaimed. "Didn't you freeze?"

"My entire childhood," Worf replied with a twitch of his mustache. They shared a smile.

"Can I ask you something?" B'Elanna said, deciding he wasn't such a bad guy after all. "Did you feel like an outsider when you were a child?"

"I felt loved by my parents and brother," Worf said, "but, yes, I also felt as though I didn't quite belong." He peered into her eyes. "Was this your experience?"

B'Elanna nodded. "I couldn't get to the Academy fast enough," she said. "All I wanted was to leave Kessik and go someplace where I'd feel useful and appreciated."

"Did you find that at the Academy?"

"I wouldn't have left after two years if I had, would I?" _B'Elanna, he's trying to help you,_ she had to remind herself. _Be nice._ "I actually found it on Voyager," she said in a softer voice.

"Then why do you want to leave Starfleet?"

"I don't. I just didn't think they'd let me stay." She bit her bottom lip. "I should probably just give up and head to Qo'noS. My temper won't get me into nearly as much trouble there."

Worf had a surly expression on his face. "It is not always easy to be a Starfleet officer and a Klingon at the same time. But it is possible to try. If that is what is you desire, you must fight to stay."

"To tell you the truth, I'm a little tired," B'Elanna admitted. "I feel as though I've been fighting my entire life."

"And you will continue to," Worf barked. "That is the challenge you must accept." B'Elanna thought for a moment that she'd lost his approval. "Captain Janeway thinks very highly of you. I will also recommend that you continue in Starfleet if you wish."

"You would do that for me?"

"I would do that for any Klingon who proved herself."

It was the first time in her life that a Klingon had offered her camaraderie. Usually she was tested by them, or insulted, or altogether rejected. She had never known a Klingon to be generous or compassionate. It made her wonder if there was more about her Klingon heritage worth exploring.

* * *

"We could have ended up living in the Klingon Empire," Miral mused quietly.

The Doctor nodded. "Worf thought your mother would like Boreth."

"I would have _hated_ it."

Harry smiled. "Well, you were less than a month old, but somehow your parents already suspected that."

Andrew took a contemplative sip of wine. "If B'Elanna knew it was going to be so difficult," he asked, "why didn't she just do what Chakotay did? Walk away? Surely it would have been easy for her to get a civilian engineering job."

"Starfleet gave her a sense of purpose," Harry explained. "She will probably never say this to either of you, but she walked away from a lot of things when she was younger, and on Voyager she found something she wanted to commit to."

The Doctor smiled at Miral. "Two, counting your father."

* * *

**Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence**

It was the second time in as many days that Kathryn Janeway returned home to find the object of her affection asleep. From the doorway to their bedroom she smiled at the sight of Chakotay lying flat on his back, quietly snoring. After a moment his eyes fluttered open, as if he'd sensed her presence. "Good morning," he murmured, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You mean 'good evening,'" she corrected, crossing the distance to the bed. She took a seat on the edge and clasped one of his hands between hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Stop asking me that."

Kathryn smiled, unfazed. "I had a visitor at the office today. An old friend."

"Who?"

"I'll give you a hint: tall, dark, handsome, likes to use the cosmos as his playground."

"Q?" Janeway nodded. "What did he want?"

"Believe it or not, he said he came to visit because he thought I was upset," she explained. "Then he accused me of moral hypocrisy and vanished."

Chakotay sat up in bed with a slight grumble. "I don't like him popping up on you unexpectedly. And he's certainly one to tell you anything about moral hypocrisy."

"It's not the first time he's visited me at the office," Kathryn admitted before she realized what she'd said. _Oh, here comes the green-eyed monster. _When Q and his son had reentered their lives two years earlier, Kathryn had discovered that Chakotay, her soft-spoken, calm man of peace, could be downright petty when it came to a certain omnipotent. There was, of course, no reason for it, and it thoroughly annoyed Kathryn.

Right on cue, Chakotay demanded, "Why haven't you ever told me this before?"

"Ugh," she groaned, "because I knew you'd be upset. And jealous."

"I am not jealous of Q, Kathryn," Chakotay insisted, but there was a hint of something – suspicion? – in his voice. "How many times has he been to your office?"

"Two or three," she answered vaguely. She could see the wheels churning in his brain as he tried to make sense of this new information.

"Kathryn, has he ever talked about L'Naan Paris? I think you owe it to Tom and B'Elanna to find out where their daughter is."

He had a point, she knew. Q Junior and L'Naan Paris, cosmic playmates, were on her mind each time she encountered Q. But as much as Chakotay loved his goddaughter, Kathryn knew it was a convenient misdirection of the conversation, and she wasn't fooled. Chakotay wanted to find something to be upset about because he was jealous. And with little cause: they had recently celebrated their twentieth anniversary, and neither of them was a spring chicken anymore. She was bonded to him, and no alien with a questionable sense of ethics could ever threaten that bond.

She slid forward on the bed, reaching out to touch his cheek. "L'Naan Paris is fine," she assured him, "and you _are_ jealous of Q."

Chakotay threw off the blanket and rose from the bed. "I just don't like you keeping secrets from me," he corrected.

Kathryn watched him go into the bathroom with a shake of her head. "There's only one person I'm married to," she called after him.

"But there's only one immortal you confess your sins to," he yelled back gruffly.

Kathryn pulled off her uniform, folding it precisely before laying it atop her dresser. "I thought you said I made the right decision when Voyager returned," she called crisply. "Now you're calling it a sin?"

"No," he said, emerging from the bathroom with a freshly washed face, "but I know that's what you think." Kathryn inspected him for a moment, gingerly brushing a few errant strands of hair off his forehead. Their eyes met. "Either you tell everyone and accept their reaction," he said softly, "or you forgive yourself and move on. No more guilt. No more secrets." For good measure he added, "And no more Q."

"Actually," she said with a reluctant sigh, "Q knew the real story of Voyager's homecoming before you did."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day One**

"You did it," said a voice that matched the timbre of her own the day before.

Janeway looked up from the book she was reading and gazed around her darkened cabin. "Hello?"

"Congratulations, Captain Janeway." There was a flash of light, and then Q was standing in front of her, in the new-issue Starfleet uniform, his red turtleneck adorned with four pips. "You finally got them home."

Janeway set her book down on the table between them. "I told you I'd do it, Q, and without your help." She smiled proudly. "Voyager managed just fine all on her own."

"Well, to be fair, you had a little help," he reminded her. "Time travel, Kathryn? Jean-Luc wouldn't have done that. Isn't it against your silly little rules?"

"Q," she said warningly, "what are you doing here?"

"Where am I supposed to be?"

"I don't know, Q. I don't know what you do when you're not in human form."

Q smiled at her, and Janeway had to admit he was handsome, if patronizing, and charming, if self-absorbed. "Oh, Kathryn, that's very sweet of you," he said, reading her thoughts, "but you and I aren't destined to be. But don't worry – there is someone. You won't be alone forever…though I know how much you're enjoying wallowing in your isolation right now."

"Please don't read my mind – and don't tell me anything about the future. I think there's been enough tampering with the timeline in the past few days."

The only way she could make sense of her older self turning up in their timeline to get them home was to avoid thinking about certain truths: that Admiral Janeway had violated several rules and that the lives of the crew had been irreparably tampered with. Captain Janeway couldn't let herself think about children that wouldn't be born or marriages that wouldn't happen because Voyager had returned early. She had to rely on the admiral's assurances that the deaths of certain crewmembers outweighed everything else.

Q took a seat beside her, propping his feet up on the table and making himself at home. "You really don't understand anything, do you? You can captain your little ship across the cosmos and get your little chicks home like the mother hen you are. You're even willingly to send yourself back in time to die for them, but that's what it's always been about for you, hasn't it? The chicks? You've never understood that it was about the nature of existence."

Janeway was not in the mood for a metaphysical lecture. "Do you have a point?"

"What if I told you that Admiral Janeway didn't tamper with the timeline?"

"I don't understand, Q. Are you saying you're responsible for her coming back?"

He laughed condescendingly. "No, no, Admiral Janeway went back in time, but she was completing the timeline that already existed."

_The future already existed? If this already existed, then where did that Admiral Janeway come from?_

"I know, it all gives you a headache."

"It certainly does." She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "You still haven't explained what you're doing here."

"This island resort is really low, even for bipedal standards," he said as he looked around her cabin. "Do your chicks know how they came to arrive at this tropical coop?"

"No," Janeway said sternly, "and you're not going to say a word."

He laughed with merriment, clapping his hands together. "A secret between you and me!" He put a finger to his lips, then brought it slowly to hers. "Don't worry, my captain," he whispered seductively. "I won't utter a peep." He gave her a smile and then disappeared.

* * *

"I think in his own way," Kathryn continued, "Q had been rooting for us. He wanted to congratulate on us on finally making it."

Chakotay took her hand in his, squeezing affectionately. He was no longer angry or jealous, she could see, but was back to his old, wonderful self. "Do you really think Q had something to do with Admiral Janeway coming back in time to help us get home?"

"No," the current admiral answered firmly, "no, I don't think he did. I think that was part of the fun for him – seeing if we'd make it on our own. If we'd prove ourselves worthy of him. I think she found some new technology, thought about the transwarp hub and you dying alone, and acted on her own accord."

Any reminder about the time-traveling Janeway always came with the reminder that in her timeline Seven and Chakotay had married briefly, until Seven died and Chakotay spent the rest of his life in mourning.

Chakotay didn't think they needed to talk about that unfulfilled path for his life any further. "Well, if the Doctor has any say in things," he joked, "I'm not going anywhere for a long time."

"Hmm," she teased, "just how much of your body is actually still yours? I married one person and wound up with someone totally different by replacement."

"It's only a heart valve, some bone marrow, and one knee," he reminded her, dimples flashing. "Still the same essence, though."

"Your essence is due for another hypospray." She headed into the bathroom and returned with it in hand. "I'll give you a piece of candy afterward if you don't raise a fuss."

He glowered. "I don't need any more of that medication. I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"The only thing wrong with me is the result of that medication!"

Kathryn pressed the hypospray quickly to his neck, before he could back away. "The Doctor said two more days. You had surgery and contracted an infection. The least you can do is let yourself get some rest." To stave off any residual bad feelings, she gave him a quick kiss. "Now go back to sleep, and I'll wake you when dinner is ready."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Jupiter Station, Holographic Laboratory, 2403**

"Oh no, what are you two doing here?" Dr. Lewis Zimmerman declared as he opened the door to find Reg Barclay and the Doctor standing in the corridor.

From inside a young voice chided him, "Lewis, that's not a nice way to greet guests."

"They're not guests. They're…_them_."

"It's good to see you, too," the Doctor said, pushing slightly past Lewis Zimmerman to enter the holographic lab.

"You could have called ahead," Zimmerman argued, trailing after him. He looked at Reg. "You can't just come barging in here whenever you want. I'm an engineer, not an innkeeper."

"I'm sorry," Reg said unapologetically. "But the Doctor needs to retrieve his memory."

"His what?"

"His memory," Reg explained. "Don't you remember when his program expanded beyond the capacity of the mobile emitter six years ago? We had to dump some excess memory files so the emitter could hold his holomatrix? We left the old memory files here as a backup."

Zimmerman looked across the lab, where the Doctor was opening various storage drawers while his assistant Haley watched, uncertain whether or not she should assist him. "My scrapbook," he reminded his creator, waving a few isolinear chips at him. "We'll need to transfer my matrix in order to reintegrate these."

"My holoemitters are your holoemitters," Zimmerman pronounced without much enthusiasm. Reg took the chips from the Doctor and began working at one of the computer consoles.

"Why do you need to reintegrate files you purged?" Haley asked.

"It's for my goddaughter," the Doctor explained. "When I was telling her some old stories last night, I discovered that I can only remember certain moments and certain details. Reg and I are going to see her again at Admiral Janeway's house, and I want to be able to tell her more." His face broke into a happy grin. "I think I also have a story or two to tell Elina about my battle for holographic rights."

"Who's Elina?" Zimmerman asked.

"She's my –"

"I'm ready," Reg declared. "Computer, transfer the Emergency Medical Hologram to the hololab."

The Doctor dematerialized and rematerialized. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"Thirty years, and he still says that," Zimmerman complained.

Reg frowned at Zimmerman but said nothing to him. "Okay, Doctor, try to access your memories. What were you doing on stardate 61254.3?"

"I was in surgery," he replied automatically. "Admiral Rousseau had fractured her fourth vertebra."

"Your record of direct experiences seems restored," Reg reported. "How about the secondary memories? Did Admiral Janeway ever tell you what she was doing?"

The Doctor frowned. "She…she…"

Zimmerman gave a heavy sigh and moved in front of Reg. "You didn't initiate the engrammatic subprocessing command correctly." He stabbed a few controls and then looked at the Doctor with expectation.

"She was getting a haircut," he finished.

"Good," Reg declared. "Now it looks like your program is about seventy-five teraquads too big. What should we delete for tonight?"

"His personality," Zimmerman said sardonically. "It never lived up anyway."

The Doctor was quite used to Zimmerman's constant abuse, but he had to put him in his place this time. "I have a far better disposition than you," he reminded his creator gently. "And far more friends."

Zimmerman scoffed but turned away, and Haley put a hand on his arm in support.

"Reg," the Doctor continued, "how about my golfing subroutine? How big is that?"

"Since we expanded your putting sequence, it's really grown." Reg punched a few commands into the console. "No, I'm going to have to delete your scuba diving and snowshoeing subroutines as well."

"What if I need them?" the Doctor asked reflexively.

"I don't think you'll need to go snowshoeing any time soon," Haley told him.

Reg tapped a few more buttons. "Sorry, Doctor, the opera files have to go as well."

The Doctor frowned. "Well, I suppose for one night it will be all right."

"Why don't you just give your goddaughter the memory files?" Zimmerman suggested. "Then you can keep your snowshoeing subroutine, and she can play the files in a holosuite."

Reg and the Doctor exchanged a look, which Haley noticed. "Lewis," she explained patiently, "the whole point is that the Doctor wants to be the one to tell the stories."

"We're all set," Reg announced. "I've got all the deleted files saved into a backup, so we can switch them for the memory files tomorrow. Computer, transfer the Emergency Medical Hologram to the mobile emitter."

The Doctor shimmered out and rematerialized. "Ah, excellent. I can remember all of it. I remember how rude the commanding officer at McKinley Station was with me. I remember meeting Commander Maddox for the first time as I went into my hearing. I remember communicating with Seven of Nine through her interlink node. I remember –" His eyes widened slightly.

"What?" Reg demanded. "What do you remember?"

The Doctor turned slowly to Reg, his face aghast. "I didn't remember that before."

* * *

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence**

"The admiral invited us to breakfast," Harry Kim grumbled as best as he could with his chin resting atop a stack of food storage containers. "Why are we bringing everything?"

"It's not everything," his wife argued. "Just a few baked goods. Drew and Tom both really like my raktajino-flavored biscotti. And everyone likes my pumpkin muffins."

"I still think the admiral will be insulted. It's rude to bring food when someone says she's cooking for you."

"You're crazy. She always expects me to bring something," Libby said confidently as they climbed the steps to the front porch. "She knows I'm a better cook."

Tom answered the door, munching on a piece of bacon. "We were wondering what was keeping you." He took a few containers from Harry. "The kids got here about twenty minutes ago."

Harry and Libby followed Tom into the kitchen, where their friends had gathered around an overwhelming buffet set up on a rustic wooden table. Libby began adding to the spread.

"Oh, you brought the muffins, good," Janeway called from across the room. "I was hoping you would."

Libby smirked at Harry as she handed Andrew a biscotti. "Drew, get a napkin and close your mouth," she scolded reflexively.

"I wish L'Naan was here," Miral said a little sadly. "I miss her."

B'Elanna took a sip of coffee. "Me, too. Your sister hasn't come home in a long time." She put her coffee down when Chakotay appeared at the kitchen doorway. "You're up! We didn't know if anything could wake you." She crossed the kitchen and gave him a slight hug before leading him to the table.

"He's alive!" Tom teased.

"I'm alive," Chakotay grumbled. "But just barely. The medication I'm on keeps me groggy."

Miral kissed his cheek. "We missed you on Friday."

"_She_ wouldn't let me go."

Across the room Janeway waved the large knife she was using to cut cantaloupe. "You had a heart valve replaced on Wednesday. You have no business attending parties."

"I wanted to hear your speech," Chakotay protested. "And wish my niece a happy birthday."

The Doctor set a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Sorry, Chakotay. Doctor's orders. But we can change your medication if you're having trouble with it."

"Don't bother. If I can't go anywhere, I might as well be asleep." He looked around the kitchen. "What are you all doing here?"

"I invited them," Janeway reminded him, bringing the slices of cantaloupe to the table. She kissed his temple, inquiring about his health in a gentle murmur.

"I'm fine," he insisted. Then louder he asked, "Is it just me, or did we grow in size by one?"

The Doctor smiled proudly. "Professor Chakotay, I'd like you to meet Elina Abramowicz, the fashion designer."

"It's nice to meet you, Chakotay," Elina said kindly, shaking his hand. "Joe's told me a lot about you."

"I'll bet he has."

"Speaking of telling stories," Reg chimed in, "we've been telling Miral and Andrew stories about Voyager's homecoming all weekend." Chakotay looked at Janeway, and she smiled crookedly, enjoying his misery in spite of the fact that she shared it. "You can get rid of the panicked look, Professor. We've already finished all the interesting parts about you."

"Oh, you have?"

"Mm-hmm," the Doctor agreed. "Last night we were talking about my hearing."

"And how B'Elanna decided to fight to stay in Starfleet," Reg continued, punching the air with his fist, "in spite of the overwhelming odds against her."

Tom handed B'Elanna a fresh cup of coffee, and she drank immediately, if only to prevent Reg from seeing her reaction to his melodramatic spin. "You know, munchkin," Tom said thoughtfully, "you were much more important to me than the uniform."

"Dad, don't get all sentimental," Miral begged.

"Please," Chakotay added. "My blood sugar can't handle it."

"Fine," Tom sniffed. "If nobody wants to hear why I wanted to stay in Starfleet, I won't tell."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You just wanted to keep outranking me." He touched his uniform collar. "Of course, only one person in this room is the captain of his own starship."

It was Libby's turn to roll her eyes. "I told him to wear civilian clothes this morning," she informed the rest of the group.

"My uniform's more comfortable," Harry argued.

Chakotay turned to Elina. "Are you sure you want to associate with such an outrageous group?"

"So, B'Elanna," Andrew began, trying to gather their attention. He'd lived through too many wasted hours listening to his father and Tom Paris affectionately needle each other or to his parents recount a domestic squabble, unable even to agree on the various elements of the disagreement. The whole lot of them, he knew, needed a good prodding if the story were to continue. "Were you still at the Mariana Two outpost during all that time?"

"Not the entire time," B'Elanna began.

"Everyone had left Mariana Two," Tom jumped in, "including the captain, so we were there alone."

"Why hadn't you been released like the others?" Elina inquired.

B'Elanna shrugged. "Because we insisted that we didn't want any special treatment. We wanted to fight for our commissions the hard way. And we had no idea where we would go, anyway. We'd been talking about France or Mexico, but we hadn't made any decisions."

"If you ask me," Harry teased, "it was because they wanted the whole place to themselves."

Chakotay joined in, turning to B'Elanna with a grin. "You never told me what you did for fun with a whole island at your disposal."

"We had a lot less fun than you might imagine," Tom informed them seriously.

"Admiral, where did you go?" Andrew asked suddenly.

"I tried to stay on Mariana Two with them," Janeway explained, "but they insisted. I opted to stay with my sister in Santa Fe until the debriefings were over. It gave us some time to get reacquainted."

"Especially since I wasn't around," Chakotay finished. When Janeway looked at him quizzically, he clarified, "You're the kind of person who needs a reliable sounding board. That was Phoebe's job after I left."

"Where were you?" Miral asked.

* * *

**Kairos III, 2378**

"This is the last available residence we have," their guide informed them as she opened the front door. Chakotay and Seven of Nine stepped inside a small living area with windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, flooding the area with yellow sunlight. The space looked bright and inviting. Seven of Nine took a few steps inside, finding her footing solidly, as if she owned the space, but her face betrayed her confident stride. Chakotay knew she was nervous about the idea of sharing a residence so early into their relationship – he was, too – but they both had nowhere to go. There was a kind of pragmatism in it.

Seven turned around to look at him with a nod. "It is sufficient," she proclaimed.

Once they had moved their belongs into the small house, Chakotay decided to make dinner using some of the vegetables from the community garden. Seven argued that she was the chef in their relationship, but Chakotay insisted, banishing her from the kitchen in order to surprise her with their first dinner in their new home.

Just as he was sautéing the onions, however, she heard his voice calling for him. He removed the pan from the cooker, wiped his hands hastily, and went outside. Seven was nowhere in sight, and he set off down a leaf-covered path in the direction of her voice.

She was standing a meter away from the edge of a lake. As she heard his footsteps crunching on the leaves and twigs, she turned to him. Her hair fluttered in the slight breeze, which also ruffled the blue skirt she was wearing. Chakotay had never seen her look lovelier.

"I think this will be a suitable place to call home," Seven decided with an outright smile.

Chakotay returned the smile. He knew it was her way of saying she had great hopes for their life together.

* * *

A look of nostalgia had taken over Chakotay's face, Andrew noticed. He decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So, Tom, you and B'Elanna were alone on Mariana Two?"

"Hey, I was there," Miral reminded him.

"Babies don't count." He looked at Tom, ignoring Mira's protest. "How long were you there?"

"Actually," B'Elanna said, "at the end of the third week, there was an interesting change of venue."

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Day Twenty-One**

"We got a message from your father," B'Elanna called from one of the com stations. She looked across the rec hall at Tom, who was absorbed in feeding Miral. It was sweet how devoted he was to the baby, but she couldn't help feeling a slight stab of jealousy. If Tom was awake, Miral was in his care. B'Elanna wasn't sure she and the baby had the same bond.

"What did he say?" Tom called back with mild interest.

"I'll read it to you. 'Take the next shuttle and bring all your belongings. Your things from Voyager have been released and are waiting for you at the house. You'll stay here until your debriefings conclude.'" B'Elanna turned over her shoulder to look at him. "It's not an invitation. It's an order."

"I thought we decided it wasn't a good idea to stay with my parents."

"We're the last two here," she pointed out.

Tom grinned wickedly. "And only two guards at the other end of the compound. We can do anything we want."

B'Elanna eyed him suspiciously as she crossed the room to him. "What exactly did you have in mind?" He didn't answer but bit his lower lip and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure Starfleet would overlook our tardiness if we used that as an excuse. I don't even have the energy, anyway, not until this is all sorted out."

The last part was true. They had shared some passionate kisses in the last week, but that was the extent of her interest since the baby had been born. She had medical clearance for more, but she didn't have the desire. Whether that was because she had just given birth or because of their precarious situation, she didn't know. She hoped he would understand and that her old fire would return soon.

"Then we should get this resolved pretty quickly," Tom said lightly. He couldn't begin to imagine what childbirth had done to her emotionally or physically, and he wasn't going to push her. "You never told me about Worf."

"There's not much to tell. He's just like every other Klingon, only in a Starfleet uniform." She held out her hands, and Tom reluctantly passed Miral to her.

"Did he ask you about your honor?" he joked.

B'Elanna gave a wry smile. "More than once." She paused for a moment. "Are you sure we're making the right decision?"

"B'Elanna, if you want to move to Klingon space, I'll go with you," Tom said sincerely.

She tried to picture them walking down the streets of Boreth, but it didn't seem like a realistic picture. "I don't think you could survive among Klingons." She wasn't entirely sure she could either.

"I've faced Klingons in battle before, and I told you I'd learn the language and the religion, if it's important to you."

"Worf said that if I stay in the Federation, I should always expect everything to be a fight." She frowned as she offered her index finger to Miral's tiny fist. "Do you think we fight because I'm Klingon?"

Tom shrugged. "I know I tease you about your Klingon temper all the time," he admitted, "but that's just because you're sensitive about it, and I like watching you get ruffled. Most of the time, I don't think of you as half-human or half-Klingon. I just think of you as B'Elanna."

She licked her lips as they stretched involuntarily into a grin. His answer satisfied her greatly, and she cast off any remaining need for serious conversation. "So what are we going to do about your father?"

"Pretend we never got the message?"

* * *

"Mom, quit deviating from the story with your hybrid woes," Miral cut in. "Did you finally leave the island or not?"

"Don't talk to your mother that way," Tom snapped at her.

"Yes, we did," B'Elanna continued. "We packed everything up and in a matter of hours we were sitting in your grandparents' house. I had just met them, but they treated me like family. It was a lot to adjust to."

Realizing there were several narrators vying for their attention, Andrew turned to the Doctor. "So, Doc, what was going on with your hearing at that time?"

The Doctor's face perked up as he took over the storytelling. "Well, fortunately, the arbitration panel had agreed to allow Captain Janeway as much time as she needed to present her case, and she was being quite thorough."

"You'd have had my head if I wasn't," Janeway reminded him.

"It was an incredible time," Reg added. "Captain Janeway arranged it so that the Doctor was in my custody. He was staying at my apartment with me."

"Aw," Miral said, rubbing the Doctor's arm, "you had a roommate."

"Yes," he replied with a taut face. "My first and only."

"Joe," Elina asked in a sweet but somewhat scolding voice, "isn't Reg your best friend?"

"And my worst nightmare when it comes to respecting privacy."

"Hey," Reg argued, "you're the one who had to listen to opera at seventy decibels before going to your hearing every morning."

"And you're the one who insisted on hiding my opera collection."

"It's rude to listening to the entire Ring Cycle all night just because you don't require sleep!"

"It's rude to take someone's opera collection and hide it behind a ficus because you're too passive to ask me to lower the volume!"

"Hey, fellas," Libby snapped, cutting off their argument. "Water under the bridge, huh?"

The Doctor turned to Elina and gave her a restrained smile. "As I said, best friend and worst nightmare."

"I want to hear what else happened during your hearings."

He nodded. "We had been presenting evidence for three days when I was asked to testify on my own behalf. The captain's examination was…a little uncomfortable."

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Seven**

"When you and Dr. Pel were finished with the procedure, did you immediately deactivate her program, Doctor?" Janeway asked. She did not like bringing up the subject of old intimacies, but she knew it was necessary to prove his humanity. She'd been doing her homework, and she knew that sexual experience had been a pivotal piece of evidence in Data's sentience hearing.

"No, we went to Sandrine's."

"Could you explain what Sandrine's is?" Janeway coaxed.

The Doctor relayed his time in the holodeck bar Tom Paris had created to look like Marseille. He then explained how Tom had so instrumentally encouraged him on his second date, which led to his first kiss in a '57 Chevy on Mars.

"Doctor, even now as you are describing these events from five years ago, you have a peculiar look on your face," Janeway reported. "Can you explain to us what you are thinking and feeling?"

"They were…fond memories. I enjoyed that night."

In one fluid movement, Janeway leaned over the witness stand to whisper, "I'm sorry about this," and moved away before anyone could notice them conversing. Then in a full voice, she asked point-blank, "Doctor, did you and Denara Pel engage in sexual activity?"

"Yes," he admitted, and if he'd been programmed to blush, he would have.

"How were able to do so?"

"Lieutenant Torres helped me establish sexual subroutines."

Janeway's eyes widened, and she could have decompiled him herself. The more he mentioned B'Elanna's modifications to his program, the less he seemed like a sentient being and the more he seemed like a programmable holomatrix. She really hated the next question she was going to ask, but it was necessary. She only hoped the Doctor understood her line of thinking.

"Doctor, after Lieutenant Torres made the appropriate modifications to your physical parameters, did she counsel you in technique?"

"Captain?" the EMH looked up at her, horrified.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

Miral and Andrew were both carefully watching for Elina's response. The weekend had thus far been full of intimate revelations, and the Doctor was proving no exception. But Elina surprised them by putting her arms around the Doctor. "Oh, Joe," she cooed, holding his head against her shoulder, "that must have been so frightening for you."

Miral couldn't help scoffing slightly, and the Doctor, hearing her, raised his eyebrows as if to say, _What's a hologram to do?_ He chose to wallow in Elina's comfort. "It was," he nearly pouted. "It was terribly frightening." As she stroked his balding head, he let slip a broad smile of contentment.

With wide eyes, Tom turned to Miral. "It was about the same time that my hearing was wrapping up. Your mother's, too. We'd been staying with my parents for three or four days."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Admiral Owen Paris, 2378**

"That was another great dinner, Mom." Tom dabbed his mouth with his napkin before tossing it onto his empty plate.

"Nothing to it," Julia Paris said graciously. "It's just an old recipe I programmed into the replicator." She rose from the table, taking her plate and Tom's. "How about dessert, everyone?"

"What is there?" Moira asked with interest.

"I made an apple pie."

"You _made_ it? With your own hands?"

"Yes, Moira," her mother replied, clearing the rest of the plates from the table. "When you and the kids were playing outside, I made it."

"Sounds tempting, Mother, but…the kids have school tomorrow." She looked across the table at her son and daughter. "And Daddy's waiting at home. Will you pack up some pie for us to take with us? Come on, guys. Say good night to everyone." Collin and Tara grumbled but got up from the table nonetheless. Moira hugged Tom tightly. Then she kissed B'Elanna on the cheek, a gesture of affection to which B'Elanna hadn't quite adjusted, before she and the children left.

"More apple pie for the rest of us," Tom said merrily as he looked around the dining room. The Torres-Parises were settling in nicely with the elder Parises, and the pleasantness of their shared domesticity was something for which Tom had been unprepared when they arrived. Yet here they were, three generations living rather amiably under one roof. He joined his mother at the kitchen counter, helping her serve up slices onto small plates.

"Julia," Owen declared, "why don't you bring mine into the study?"

"Do you want ice cream on top?"

"No, but I'll take a little whiskey on the side," he said with a wink toward B'Elanna. He nodded at her, and she understood that she was supposed to go with him. She rose and followed him to the doorway, where he turned back to his wife. "Send B'Elanna's in, too, with whiskey," he added without asking her.

"Look at this mess, Mom," Tom said with a glance around the empty kitchen. He gathered the remaining dishes from the table and brought them to the counter. Then he kissed his mother on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner."

"Oh, Tom. Honey, you should probably put Miral down. It's past her bedtime."

Tom walked over to where Miral was resting in her child carrier. She had been quiet all through dinner, but he wasn't fooled. "Actually, B'Elanna and I decided we're going to keep her up a little later from now on. We think she's sleeping too much during the day, and that's why she's so fussy in the middle of the night." He picked up his daughter. "Last night she woke up around two and cried for over an hour."

"It was an hour and a half," his mother corrected, "but that's what babies are supposed to do."

"She woke you up? I'm sorry, Mom."

Julia smiled at him. "It's mother's intuition. I'd wake up if she turned over in her sleep. Or if you did."

"Did Dad wake up?" Tom asked with some concern. The last thing he wanted was to have the admiral rescind his offer to stay in his house because of Miral's late night crying.

"Your father would sleep through a storm," she assured him. "And even if he didn't, you don't have to worry. He's excited to have a baby in the house. He really regrets not spending more time with you three when you were younger. He's trying to make up for it with the grandchildren." She set down her cup of coffee and took Miral from him. "She's a real angel, Tom." She offered him a cup of coffee with her free hand, and as Tom raised it to his lips, a smile stretched across his face.

In the study Owen and B'Elanna were seated side by side on an antique leather couch, their heads titled together as they studied a padd. "Now, it appears that if you replaced the tetraburnium hull with standard tritanium, production time would be expedited by about two weeks per craft," Owen said, looking toward B'Elanna for her confirmation.

She nodded, momentarily lost in their discussion, as they debated the advantage of faster construction over heftier hull strength. After a moment, though, she wondered why she was having this conversation with the admiral. She had been involved in the creation of the Delta Flyer, but it was really Tom's baby, and if the admiral wanted to develop plans for production of an entire class of Delta Flyer-inspired ships, shouldn't he be discussing it with Tom?

"Let's talk a little about the impulse thrusters," Owen said.

The words intoxicated her, rendering her unable to think of anything except possibilities for improving propulsion. "The additional thrusters may seem superfluous," she began, "but they're what separates this from a standard shuttlecraft. If we could make the Fleet move more quickly at sublight speeds, there would be much less problem navigating areas of space like the Badlands, for example. We'd still have mobility, but without sacrificing speed." She caught herself. _'We,'_ she echoed in her mind. _No one says you're going to be invited. _"You really should be talking to Tom about this," she blurted.

Owen Paris set the padd carefully down on the table in front of them and turned to look at her. "You seem to like ship design," he observed.

B'Elanna nodded. "It's not exactly a field I ever thought I'd be interested in, but researching new propulsion systems was a way of life for us over the past seven years."

"Is it something you'd like to continue working on?"

B'Elanna nodded again, resisting the urge to smile. Tom's big, scary dad certainly didn't seem so anymore; if anything, it seemed that they had a lot more in common with each other than either she or the admiral had anticipated. "Absolutely."

* * *

"You and Grandpa don't seem that close now," Miral noted.

"Well, we had less in common as the years went on, but I still love him," B'Elanna explained. "We really enjoyed getting to know each other when your father and I were living at that house." She laughed a little. "We were sleeping in his old bedroom."

Tom nodded in confirmation. "I kept finding stuff from when I was in high school in the back of the closet – stuff I'm glad your grandmother never found."

Miral smiled and turned to Chakotay. "I believe it's your turn to continue."

He thought for a moment. "Well, Seven and I were pretty happy at first. My sister liked Seven, and they became friends. Seven tried to learn to appreciate things like spirituality and meditation, which she had told me a long time before were 'foolish endeavors.'"

"_Seven of Nine_ meditated?" Harry repeated.

"Did she meet her animal guide?" B'Elanna joined in, her voice ringing with sarcasm.

"Yes, and unlike you she didn't call the experience ridiculous and try to kill her guide. She really wanted to learn more about different cultures, including mine. She thought the transcendence achieved by a meditative state might be close to…perfection," he explained with a smile. "But it was a long time ago, and, as I said, I don't remember very much."

"Speaking of memory," the Doctor said, "there are one or two things I remember that I didn't tell you last night, now that mine has been reinstalled."

"What do you mean 'reinstalled'?" B'Elanna asked.

"His program expanded too much," Reg explained. "So we deleted memory files we didn't think he'd need to access every day."

"Like painful memories about your hearing," Miral surmised. "Tell us about it, Doc. We're all ears."

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Seven**

"Captain," the opposing counsel greeted as he jogged up to Janeway outside the hearing room, "how about striking a deal? My leave was supposed to start two days ago. If you promise not to call any more witnesses and to wrap up your arguments today, I promise I'll go easy in my closing statement. And I'll send you fresh mango from Luzon."

Janeway shook her head. "I'm going to make my case to the best of my ability, Blacker. That's the difference between you and me. This is just an assignment for you, but this man is my friend."

"Kathryn," he said, dropping his voice and leaning close, "you don't _really_ think of him as a 'man,' do you? Between you and me?"

"He's my friend," she repeated firmly. "And he needs my help, and there's no way I'm cutting any kind of deal with you." She took a few steps toward the entrance to the hearing room. "I'm bringing in the big guns today – fair warning."

"Are they photonic as well?" Blacker asked. Janeway gritted her teeth but didn't respond. "Come on, Kathryn, the mango wasn't a good bargaining chip?"

"Blacker," she called over her shoulder as she pulled open the door, "I had enough of the tropics in quarantine." She approached the Doctor with a plastered smile. "Good morning."

"Captain," he greeted. "Are you having some trouble with the opposition?"

"There's nothing to worry about, Doctor," she assured him as they took their seats. "I made a few calls last night. We have a few tricks up our sleeve today."

"I certainly hope so. We're losing."

He was right, but Janeway wasn't ready to admit it yet. "Until there's an official ruling, let's keep our heads, all right, Doctor?" She patted his arm in a conciliatory gesture. "Besides, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the line-up of witnesses today."

* * *

With blond hair flowing freely around her shoulders and rose-tinted cheeks, Seven of Nine looked completely different than she had the last time either of them saw her. Her blue eyes looked sharper, more focused, but also deeper and more emotional. Even across subspace the Doctor could tell that Seven had changed.

"And after that, I made it a point to share meals with him," she concluded. "I described the textures and smells as best I could so that he could share the experience of eating vicariously."

"So what you're saying is that the Doctor can't eat and doesn't understand what food tastes like?" Blacker repeated.

Seven frowned. "I suppose."

"No further questions."

Janeway rose from her chair. "Seven, do you consider the Doctor a friend?"

* * *

"He's the most annoying, self-righteous, narcissist I've ever met." Tom smirked and folded his hands in his lap. "But that's why I don't think of him as a hologram. We fought and disagreed and shared jokes together, just like I did with any other member of the crew."

"When your wife went into labor, were you present?"

"No," Tom explained. "I was called to the bridge. She gave birth to our daughter with only the Doctor around. She'd told me a few days before that if we returned to the Alpha Quadrant, she still wanted to make certain that the Doctor delivered the baby. She feels close to him."

"Objection," Blacker called. "The witness is speculating."

Janeway nodded. "Let's stick to you, Tom," she said, undaunted. "Why don't you tell me about the time the Doctor had a family?"

"I didn't get a chance to meet them, but I'd come to Sick Bay after getting injured on a shuttle mission. This was before I was his medic. He was pretty angry at me for getting hurt, and it turned out it was because his daughter was critically injured." He looked down. "She ended up dying."

"And what did the Doctor say to you about her death?"

"He was pretty torn up about it, but I told him that he needed to live through that experience with his family to understand what being a father was all about."

"When the Doctor created the holonovel based on Voyager's crew, your character was a little…salacious." Tom nodded, unable to suppress a smile. "Did that upset you?"

"Yes, it did, but he was just trying to prove to us that he was a person with rights, that he felt he was being underappreciated. I was there when he was first activated," he said to the panel freely, "He only said things he was programmed to. He didn't have a personality. _That_ was a hologram. He's not the same today. You can't predict what he's going to do or say just like a real person. He has real relationships with people. He's my daughter's godfather."

"Yes, that's right," Janeway chimed in. "Tell us about that."

Tom shrugged. "As I said, he and B'Elanna are close, and she asked him to be the baby's godfather."

"And did he accept?"

"Of course."

"How did you feel about that?"

Tom smiled. "I thought we'd pick Harry – Ensign – Lieutenant – Harry Kim. He's one of our closest friends. Or Chakotay. But B'Elanna picked the Doc, and I respect her choice. I can think of worse people."

"What does being a godfather mean?"

"Well," Tom said, considering the question, "I guess it's someone who loves your kid and cares for her and can be trusted to take care of her if anything ever happens to you."

"And would you trust the Doctor to take care of Miral if anything ever happened to you or B'Elanna?"

Tom looked straight at the Doctor. "Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "I'd trust him with her life."

* * *

"He gave her social lessons, taught her how to be more human," Chakotay explained. "How else could he do that if he didn't understand himself?"

"Why didn't Seven talk to us about this?" Janeway asked.

"She's…sensitive about her humanity. She knows that she doesn't act fully human yet, and it embarrasses her to talk about it. The Doctor was a great teacher, though. There's a remarkable difference between the woman I tried to blow out the airlock four years ago and the woman you spoke to earlier today. That's because of her captain, and because of the Doctor."

_Me? We didn't practice that part of the speech._ Janeway looked at the com screen with surprise and found Chakotay looking back, trying to send her a message with his eyes. She gave him a private smile.

"She's not the only one," Chakotay continued. "A lot of the Voyager crew owe the Doctor for his friendship as much as his medical skills."

* * *

"Ultimately, rewriting his program didn't work," B'Elanna explained. "By deleting all memory of the experience, we'd inadvertently left him vulnerable to experiencing it again. When that happened, he lapsed into a kind of ethical feedback loop that nearly caused a total failure of his program."

"So instead you decided not to delete the memories a second time?"

"We thought that by letting the Doctor live through the experience and make sense of it for himself, he could adapt to what had happened."

"Engineering couldn't save him?" Janeway repeated.

"No. It was almost like an existential crisis. It couldn't be fixed with programming."

"But you had called him 'just a program' during that same incident, didn't you?"

"I was wrong," B'Elanna said firmly. "If he was just a program, I could have easily reengineered him."

"You rewrote the Doctor's program on another occasion, didn't you? Upon learning that you were pregnant?"

B'Elanna sighed. "I did. I wanted him to perform a procedure that he wouldn't do."

"How can the Doctor be a person if his program can be rewritten so easily?" Janeway asked, using some of the phony confusion Admiral Peabody had used at her own debriefing.

Fortunately, she and B'Elanna had rehearsed the routine. "Just because I did that doesn't mean he's not a person. If he had been a human doctor, I probably would have found a way to alter the data or the results of his exam. I was determined to manipulate the circumstances in my favor. It really had nothing to do with the fact that he's a hologram."

"What happened when your actions were discovered?"

"We restored his program, and I apologized. I'd violated him. I owed it to him to apologize."

"Is that when you asked him to be your baby's godfather?"

B'Elanna nodded. "The Doctor is…a difficult person to get along with sometimes. But so am I. We've tormented each other a lot, but we also appreciate each other's abilities. I guess we're a lot alike in some ways. I know he cares for me, and I know he loves Miral – my daughter – so at the end of the day, he's the person I want to be her godfather."

The Doctor looked up at her with a smile on his face, and she nodded quickly before averting her eyes.

* * *

"As I told the arbiter a few months ago, commanding the ship with the Doctor was difficult," Harry explained, "because he's a complex person. Starfleet officers are supposed to be trained in an area of expertise, but we're all supposed to know how to take over in a crisis. When Voyager needed him, the Doctor was able to keep the ship operational while searching for the rest of the crew."

"He's programmed to do that," Blacker argued.

"Harry," Janeway continued, "you've spent a lot of time on holodecks, haven't you?"

"I guess I have."

"What's your favorite program?"

"Objection," Blacker interrupted. "Relevance?"

"I'm attempting to establish that Lieutenant Kim can distinguish between a hologram that simply carries out its programming and something that is more than the sum of its parts," Janeway explained. "I'll be brief."

"Answer the question, Lieutenant," Admiral Shelton instructed.

"I really enjoy Captain Proton," Harry admitted with a sheepish grin.

Janeway smiled back. _Perfect answer, Harry._ "Tell us a little about the program."

"It's a science fiction program about a hero, Captain Proton, who tries to save Earth from the evil Dr. Chaotica," Harry explained. "I usually play Buster Kincaid, Proton's loyal sidekick."

"Would you trust Captain Proton with your life, Harry?"

"You mean Tom?"

"Who's Tom?" Blacker interrupted again.

"No, Captain Proton," Janeway reiterated, again ignoring the opposing counsel. "Would you trust him with your life off the holodeck? If the character were given the mobile emitter, for instance?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "He doesn't know the first thing about real life."

"And what about the Doctor? Would you trust him with your life?"

"I have, many times."

"What's the difference?"

Harry thought for a moment. "It's a little difficult for me to answer that question, Captain. It's hard to compare the Doctor to a regular hologram." Harry smiled. "Unless I'm repairing him, I guess I don't even think of the Doctor as a hologram."

* * *

"Surely as a Vulcan you can see the illogical precedent that declaring the Doctor sentient would set," Blacker said. "If we make this determination for one computer program, where do we draw the line? Should I worry about my replicator's feelings? I just installed a new Klingon translation matrix on my computer. Is it going to ask for its own quarters?"

"Your analogies are flawed," Tuvok pointed out from the com screen. "In both cases you are describing materials that have certain intelligent capacities that have been built in. However, neither your replicator nor your translation matrix takes physical form, moves about, and establishes relationships with other humanoids."

"I can't love my replicator?"

"You can. However, it will never return your affections."

"So you're telling me that the Doctor is a person because he has feelings? You, a Vulcan, are defining sentience as the ability to have emotions?"

"I remind you that Vulcans have emotions. Logic dictates that we suppress them."

Blacker sat down at his table in defeat. "No more questions for this witness."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Ten**

Tom Paris took a sip of water, extending the moment as long as he could. In the past six days, he had rehashed his career aboard Voyager to what he could only describe as a very fair panel, but a week of proceedings was wearing thin on him. Today's particular topic, life before Voyager, promised to bring more agony, but Tom, through his sip of water, reminded himself that he and B'Elanna had made the decision to try to stay in Starfleet. This was the price he had to pay.

There was a time when he was devoted to his Starfleet career for his father's sake – that was right before he decided he wanted nothing to do with his father or, consequently, Starfleet. Then, a few years later, came a time when he was devoted to redeeming himself and, consequently, was devoted to Captain Janeway. That was the only way he could describe it. She had changed his life, so his life was hers.

Now he was driven by a different instinct. It wasn't about his father anymore, and although he still loved the captain, it wasn't about her. It was about B'Elanna and Miral and the life the three of them were going to make together. He was devoted to keeping his uniform for them – and for himself, for the person he'd become in the last seven years.

It was a good fit.

"Mr. Paris," the Trill admiral prodded, "your answer?"

"Yes," he said.

"Lieutenant Harry Kim says that you are a reformed person. He speaks well of you."

_Lieutenant Kim. Sounds nice._

"A number of Voyager's junior officers and crewmen have also written letters of support for you," she continued, holding up a padd. "While they don't all attest to your abilities as an officer, many of them note the invaluable role you played in maintaining Voyager's morale." She consulted the padd. "'Yo-yos'?"

Tom smiled. "A silly game the crew took to."

"Mr. Paris, as you know, we're here to talk about the Caldik Prime incident today. I should tell you that once this inquiry is adjourned, that matter will be attached to your service record, but sealed for confidentiality. Captain's eyes only."

"I understand."

"Tell me what happened that day that led you to lie at the initial inquiry."

* * *

**San Francisco, Residence of Admiral Owen Paris**

After dinner that night, Owen and Julia Paris offered to watch Miral while Tom and B'Elanna took a walk outdoors. The sun was only beginning to set, and there was a slightly warm breeze in the air. It was nice for them to get some much-needed time alone on a fresh early summer evening, particularly after Tom's deliverance that afternoon at Starfleet Headquarters. They returned after an hour, hand in hand, but their smiles faded when they saw his parents sitting solemnly at the kitchen table. "What's going on?" B'Elanna asked with concern. "Is Miral –"

"She's fine," the admiral assured.

"It's your father, B'Elanna," Julia explained. "He commed here looking for you."

B'Elanna gave Tom an uneasy look, and he held her hand more tightly. "What did he want?"

Julia gave Tom a maternal smile. "Will you excuse us, Tom?"

"She's my wife," Tom protested.

"It's okay, honey," his mother said with an encouraging nod. She rose from the table and extended her arm toward him. "Let's go check on Miral." Tom frowned slightly but moved toward her, and she put her arm around him and led him up the stairs.

"Sit down, B'Elanna," Owen said once they were gone. His voice was gentle but firm. "Your father wanted to find out how you were doing – whether or not you'd be staying in Starfleet. He asked if he could visit, to see Miral."

B'Elanna sank into a chair across the table from her father-in-law with a sigh. _Bad enough he's trying to worm his way back in, but now he has to humiliate me in front of them._ "I'm sorry he troubled you."

"It was no trouble. He was just a concerned parent, appealing to us as concerned parents."

"I told him I'd contact him when I was ready," she nearly spat, "and he has no right to go talking to people behind my back."

"He loves you," the admiral argued patiently.

"What has Tom told you about my childhood?" B'Elanna asked with curiosity.

"Not much. Just that your father left you and your mother when you were young. I can imagine why you're not eager to let him become involved in Miral's life."

B'Elanna looked at him for a long moment. She wasn't exactly sure what a good parent was. She had adored John Torres when she was younger, and she had felt treasured by him in return, but she was reasonably certain that wasn't enough. A good father wouldn't walk away, leaving his daughter to feel as if he no longer loved her.

For awhile she thought she had a crush on Chakotay, but eventually she understood that she just wanted him to be proud of her. He had been a kind of surrogate big brother – older, wiser, always willing to teach her something about life. She had tried so hard to earn his approval in the Maquis, and – apart from keeping their ship together – she always fell short one way or another. But Chakotay wasn't really a father, especially these days. He took her advice as much as he gave it to her.

Then there was Captain Janeway. She'd tried hard to live up to Janeway's expectations, too, but somewhere along the way it stopped being because she wanted or needed the captain's approval. It started being about her own sense of self-worth.

Now she was sitting in the home of people she'd only known for two weeks but who knew some of the most intimate details of her life. They had accepted who she was – that she was part Klingon, that she had dropped out of the Academy and joined the Maquis, that she was sometimes cranky in spite of her best efforts to put on a good face while a guest in their home. They hadn't made her feel she had anything to live up to.

One morning, while she and Tom were in the bathroom together, B'Elanna had told him that she genuinely liked the admiral. He hadn't said anything in response, conveniently gargling a cup of full of water instead. She knew it was easier to like someone else's father, who didn't come with any baggage, than her own. She just wondered if she'd ever appreciate John Torres the way she did Owen Paris.

"B'Elanna," the admiral said, as if reading her mind, "you told Tom to give me another chance. Now I'm telling you the same thing. Your father is not the same person he once was. And he's sorry for what he did." His kind blue eyes looked into her brown ones. "There's nothing worse than knowing you've ruined things with your own child," he continued quietly. "To think that you're the reason your child is unhappy, that you're the one who shattered your child's view of the world."

"But whatever you might have done to Tom," she reminded him, "you never left him. That's the part I can't get over. It's…dishonorable to abandon a child."

"Is there no way he can ever make it up to you?" Owen asked. "If not, then you should tell him that you don't want him to contact you again. But if there's any small chance you think you could forgive him or that he might be a good grandfather even if he was a bad father, then you owe it to yourself – and to Miral – to try."

She considered this for a moment. Without her realizing it, she had once again stumbled across a surrogate parent – two surrogate parents. Only this time, she knew, they weren't going to go anywhere. And somehow that made it safe to try with her real father. "Okay," she said slowly, trying out the sound of the word, "Dad."

And that was the start of John Torres' reentry into her life.

* * *

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

"_Grandpa_ convinced you to meet with your father? Wow."

"Wild, isn't it?" Tom said to his daughter. "The old man is nothing if not clever. By getting us to live with him, he was able to make up with me, and then because your mother got to close to him, he was able to convince her to make up with her own father."

Admiral Janeway smiled. "Owen Paris is a skilled tactician."

Miral processed the revelation for a second, and then shook herself out of it. "I still want to know what happened to the Doctor after Admiral Janeway 'brought in the big guns.'"

"Me, too," Elina chimed in. "Joe, tell us how it all worked out."

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Eleven**

"What Captain Janeway has managed to prove over the course of these hearings," Blacker declared, "is that the Emergency Medical Hologram is a sophisticated program. Sophisticated, capable of adapting and expanding beyond its originally intended parameters, yes, but it's still a program. Every expansion to its personality came with a new subroutine that one of Voyager's engineers was responsible for maintaining. More than that, you've heard testimony that nearly every time the Doctor tried to expand his own programming, it caused severe problems. In one instance he tortured a fellow crewmember. In another he couldn't separate reality from fiction. This doesn't indicate that the Doctor is a person. On the contrary, if I try to teach myself something new, as a person, I just…learn it. It doesn't cause me to malfunction at the risk of those around me. The Doctor is a series of subroutines worthy of being studied by Starfleet's top holographic engineers. It's a fine piece of technology, and we can learn a lot from it. But it's not a person."

He input a few commands on the screen, and an image of the Federation Dilithium Processing Facility came up. "The Doctor isn't the only Mark I EMH program that was created. But the rest of them ended up here. Why? Only because they weren't privy to Voyager's unique circumstances in the Delta Quadrant. If we grant that this program, which has been running for seven years, is a real person, as real as any flesh-and-blood humanoid, then what do we say to the rest of the Mark Is? Do they have a right to their own lives, too?"

Blacker walked over to the Doctor. "Excuse me," he said quickly, stabbing a button on the mobile emitter. The Doctor dematerialized. He held the mobile emitter up for the panel to see. "This is the only thing that separates the Doctor from the other Mark Is – the ability to travel outside the holodeck because of technology Voyager shouldn't have gotten its hands on in the first place. This is the only holographic mobile emitter that exists. How can we open the door to the claim that a hologram can be a person if there isn't even sufficient equipment to keep these so-called 'people' in eyesight?"

"Bring him back," Janeway hissed.

Blacker pushed a control on the mobile emitter. Once the Doctor fully rematerialized, he took his seat beside Janeway, glaring at Blacker. "This mobile emitter is a remarkable device, and the Doctor is a remarkable physician. No one will deny that. Let's not be afraid to call him what he is – a program – and download him for study so that future holoprogrammers can benefit from this incredible piece of technology." Blacker crossed the room to his table. "I think I've made my point," he concluded, taking his seat.

Janeway rose with a deep sigh. "The hologram being examined here today is a doctor. Doctors, as you know, are responsible for taking care of people when they are sick. They also give preventive medicine from time to time to keep patients from getting sick in the first place. Our Doctor happens to be made of algorithms, rather than flesh and blood, but he has the same needs as a person. He requires companionship. He has hobbies. He serves an invaluable role in society. And, like any other person, he gets sick from time to time. Only instead of being treated by a fellow doctor, he gets treated by engineers. It's no different than the lives any of us live, except that it's under slightly different terms."

She crossed in front of the arbitration panel. "I agree with Mr. Blacker that the issue of holographic rights is a vital and timely one. As Starfleet officers, our mission is to seek out new life and new civilizations. That order doesn't tell us to only accept certain forms of life. In fact, one of the things we've learned as we explore the galaxy is that life often doesn't come in the forms we expect and in the places we expect. But we have to respect it nonetheless. If we do not allow the Doctor the right to manage his own life, we'd be turning our backs on a long tradition. I'm not asking us to rethink Federation values. I'm asking us to put into practice those values we've already agreed on."

As Janeway sat back down beside the Doctor, she looked at the faces of the panel. She hadn't made the case as convincingly as she'd hoped, and she could nearly hear Tuvok in her head, telling her that Blacker's arguments were sounder, that hers were emotionally driven. They were the same kind of impassioned arguments that had brought her and Tuvok together in the first place. She wished he was around to help their case.

"Do you think we've convinced them?" the Doctor asked her nervously. She didn't have the heart to tell him no.

* * *

"So, Admiral Janeway gave her closing statement, and then what?" Andrew demanded. "How long did it take for them to issue the ruling? What did they say?"

Janeway looked at the Doctor, anxiously awaiting his response. He turned slowly to her. "Actually, until the memory files were reinstalled, I had forgotten the original outcome of the hearings."

"Original?" Miral echoed.

"Yes," the Doctor explained, holding Janeway's gaze. "We lost."

* * *

"Don't punish yourself, Captain," the Doctor insisted as he trailed Janeway down the corridor. "You did the best you could."

"It wasn't good enough," she spat. "I don't know what to say to you, Doctor. I never imagined this happening."

"Captain," he said gently, "you gave me a wonderful life on Voyager. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"But this wasn't supposed to be the end of that life."

"It won't be. The panel won't announce what's going to happen to me until tomorrow. Maybe I'll end up at the Daystrom Institute. I hear it's lovely in the spring."

Janeway smiled, not because he was being particularly funny but because she appreciated that, in the midst of losing his sentience hearing, the Doctor was trying to cheer her up. "There's still a chance that we can appeal their decision."

"On what grounds?"

For that Janeway didn't yet have an answer. "There must be something we can do." She put her hands on her hips, pacing the corridor. "If there's one thing I learned in command school, it's that there's no such thing as a no-win scenario."

"Captain, I appreciate your efforts, but I've accepted the arbiter's decision."

Janeway stopped in front of the Doctor and looked him squarely in the eyes. Then she put her arms around him, and after a moment he returned the embrace. "Come on, Doctor, let's go give them a piece of our minds." She led him back into the hearing room, calling out, "I request permission to address the panel one more time."

"Captain, your arguments have concluded. The panel is in recess."

"Too bad." Janeway took her place at the table. "I don't know how I can make it any clearer to you. The Doctor is a trusted, valued member of my crew. He is our friend. He is a godfather to one of the children on the ship. _He will not be reprogrammed._" She looked around the panel, forcing them to make eye contact with her. "Half of the crew will resign if that happens, and the other half will start a riot."

"And where will you be, Captain?" Admiral Halsey asked.

"I'll be on every com channel I can get access to, telling the citizens of the Federation that one of their own was executed at the hands of Starfleet." She dropped into her chair, staring at the panel willfully.

"Captain," the Doctor whispered to her, "you're risking your career."

"Doctor," she reminded him, "a crew can't accomplish anything if its members aren't loyal to each other."

"Captain, your concerns have been noted," Admiral Cabot announced. "We thank you for your time."

Before they could dismiss her or declare the hearing in recess again, Janeway got up and walked out.

* * *

"That was the last time I spoke with the captain," the Doctor explained. "The next day the panel reconvened to make its final determination. It didn't seem likely that I would be decompiled. Captain Blacker had made it clear that he thought I was a worthwhile program. One option was that I would be sent to the Daystrom Institute to be studied. The other was that I'd be reprogrammed with the additional subroutines of the Marks II, III, and IV. Worst case scenario, I'd be joining the other Mark Is at the dilithium processing facility and lose the mobile emitter."

"What did they decide?" Miral gasped.

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day Twelve**

"Doctor, where is your counsel?" Admiral Cabot demanded.

"I don't know," he said with desperate worry. He'd arrived on time that morning, only to find that Captain Janeway was not waiting for him in the corridor as she had been every other morning.

"If Captain Janeway does not appear in the next five minutes," Blacker began, but he was interrupted as Admiral Paris stormed into the room with a padd in his hands.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Cabot, Halsey, you have to look at this." Paris marched up to the table and plunked the padd down.

"What's going on?" the Doctor asked with concern.

Admiral Paris looked up at him with a grim face. "Captain Janeway has resigned her commission."

* * *

"_You resigned your commission?"_ Andrew repeated, flabbergasted. _"You quit Starfleet?"_

"That's what resigning a commission means, Drew," Harry reminded his son, trying to rein Andrew in.

"How could you do that in the middle of the Doctor's hearing?" Miral demanded of Janeway.

"Take it easy," her mother warned.

But their narrator understood their reactions. "I was just as upset then as you are now," the Doctor told them, "because no one would tell me what had happened. I would have given anything to read the captain's message on that padd." He looked pointedly at Janeway, silently leaving her no choice but to pick up where his story left off.

"I guess it's time to tell you my version."

* * *

"This is it," Janeway said to herself, reviewing the padd in her hand. After leaving the Doctor's hearing without being dismissed, she felt she was finally regaining some of the control she'd lost since their return. She had promised to guard her crew, and that's just what she had to do.

She'd lost Mark. She'd lost Chakotay. Her crew had all left – to new assignments, to return to their families, to find new jobs. Only Tom, B'Elanna, and the Doctor remained tromping about headquarters with her all day. And their deliberations were bound to end sometime soon, anyway.

She felt a tinge of guilt at being locked in the Doctor's hearing all day when Tom and B'Elanna were fighting tooth and nail down the hall. She had been called in to testify on multiple occasions, which then halted her hearing with the Doctor. Tom and B'Elanna had been called to testify on the Doctor's behalf, which then delayed their own proceedings. Even though it was not yet established whether or not the Doctor was a person, he'd been called in to testify about Tom's warp ten achievement and his service as field medic and about B'Elanna's insubordination at trying to rewrite him when she wanted Miral to be fully human – testimony redundant to the Doctor's own hearing. It was all spiraling into chaos. If headquarters wanted personal testimony, they called in crew whose own backgrounds hadn't yet been sufficiently investigated, and then Janeway was called in to attest to personal character and service records, and then that damned Admiral Peabody would begin attacking her own credentials.

And this was what they had longed to return to. She felt as though she'd promised the crew the land of milk and honey, and instead brought them home to a Federation still recovering from a war and a Starfleet struggling to pick up the pieces of its integrity. A land of crumbs.

Enough was enough.

She left the padd squarely on the table in the middle of the room and then, in a bold gesture of defiance, walked out of Starfleet Headquarters.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

"That explains what happened," B'Elanna interrupted. She looked around the kitchen. "I'd been called to Admiral Paris's office that morning. He wanted to talk to me about a possible job for Tom."

Tom looked at his wife in surprise. "You mean, you and my father were scheming behind my back?"

"Oh, come on, if he'd told you he was working hard to keep you in Starfleet and to get us positions together somewhere, would you have let him help?"

Tom considered the question. "No, I probably wouldn't have," he realized. "I probably would have told him I didn't need any special favors, especially not then and not from him."

"You see?"

Tom sighed. "I just think that if you were having conversations about me with my dad, you could have told me."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Owen Paris, 2378 – Debriefings, Day Twelve**

Admiral Paris ushered B'Elanna into his office precisely at 0900. It was their second meeting at Starfleet Headquarters. This time, however, instead of sitting opposite each other at his desk, they were side by side in two chairs under a window.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you after dinner last night," he began as they took their seats.

"That's okay. I'm sure you have more important things to do than show me old schematics."

"The Al-Batani was quite a ship," he said nostalgically. "You'd have loved her."

B'Elanna smiled. "Voyager and I didn't always get along perfectly, but that's the ship I'll always love." She cleared her throat slightly. "Admiral – Owen – I don't think you called me away from my hearing to talk about your old ship."

He nodded. "It's been wonderful having you and Tom and the baby at home," he began. "I can hardly recognize the changes in Tom, and yet, in many ways, he hasn't changed at all."

B'Elanna nodded a little but still did not answer. So far, Owen Paris had proven himself to be a good father figure to her and a wonderful grandfather to Miral. She could see no evil to his character. With every passing day, she was growing more confident in her assessment that the rift between him and Tom had largely to do with their different personalities.

Still, she owed it to Tom to be cautious. She knew how it felt to have a parent betray trust, and he was, regardless of how or why it had happened, the man who had once broken Tom's indomitable spirit.

"Tom – he never really applied himself to anything," the admiral continued. "He was naturally good at things, but he never seemed to care about them or work at them. He's a good parent now, but he seems to _want_ to be a good parent, too. I've never seen him so driven."

"You should have seen him on Voyager, then. He was a good officer." B'Elanna gave a half-smile. "After the first Delta Flyer was destroyed, Tom worked night and day on the replacement. I think he missed three nights of sleep."

"I suspect that's one of the things you have in common? Your willingness to work furiously at something?"

"I guess I have a reputation for being a little overzealous." That, B'Elanna knew, was a gross understatement. There were nights when Nicoletti or Carey or Vorik or some other engineer would have to threaten to call security if she didn't rest. The Doctor himself had reprimanded her on several occasions for pulling too many double shifts without food and sleep. And then came Tom…she'd been extremely overzealous with him some nights, too, also resulting in reprimands from the Doctor. The thought brought a smile to her lips. "To be honest, Admiral, I never thought of myself as overly devoted to work. That ship was our home, and we didn't have the luxury of limping to a starbase after every mission. It didn't seem like I had a choice."

"How well do you understand Starfleet protocol, B'Elanna?" he asked.

"I'm not quite sure I understand." It was true that she kept engineering well beyond recommended guidelines, but she was also prone to insubordination. And if she didn't see the reasoning behind a rule, she had no problem breaking it. Still, considering their circumstances and considering the fact that model officers like Tuvok had also gotten into trouble with Captain Janeway, B'Elanna didn't feel she ought to be singled out.

"You know that as the crew chief, you're supposed to delegate the work."

"I guess so."

"So if you did it all yourself, overzealously," he continued, purposefully quoting her earlier word choice, "it must have been because you wanted to, because you liked to. You were driven."

"Oh," B'Elanna said, catching on. "I suppose so, but I would never say that I did everything myself. I had a good team."

"Still, being driven – that's a good quality in a good officer."

"Admiral?"

"Am I right in assuming you want to remain an officer?"

"It's silly, I know," she admitted. "But I don't want to be just a noncom. I like being in charge of a team."

"You kept a ship going for seven years without any mandated assistance. You learned how to integrate alien technology, you've designed engines that can break warp ten, helped in the construction of a new ship, led a crew that have all pledged their loyalty to you, and you've proven your moral compass during an observation period." He noticed she was worrying again. "No, I didn't ask you and Tom into my home to observe you, but it sounds better if I write it up that way. Now, with all these facts established, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to continue in Starfleet if that's what you choose. We can use you."

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"I'll be honest with you," he continued. "I don't think things are going in your favor, and I'm not sure I can help. But I want to do whatever I can. Voyager brought back a lot of new technology and new theories on propulsion and energy conservation that Starfleet could use. And your ideas on the redesign of the Delta Flyer are inspired. If you're allowed to remain in Starfleet, would you be interested in working on new ship design?"

"I would," B'Elanna readily agreed. She and Tom had just discussed plans to stay on Earth as long as possible, to try to give Miral a stable life. But once the words were out of her mouth, she realized that wasn't what she wanted. They were fighting to keep their commissions, after all, and not so they could perform grunt work in San Francisco and enjoy domestic bliss. That wasn't a life she knew how to live.

"Good," Owen Paris said, with a curt nod. "Now the real reason I summoned you here: what are we going to do about Tom?"

B'Elanna gave an inward sigh. _Just when we were making progress._ "I'm not sure I feel comfortable having this conversation, Admiral," she warned.

"It's Owen, and I know what you're thinking. I know your loyalty is to Tom – I've seen that the past few days – but I want to help my son in any way I can. And I know he won't let me."

"Well, you're probably right about that."

"Did Tom ever tell you about what happened when he graduated from the Academy? How I tried to help him then?"

B'Elanna shook her head. She'd heard bits and pieces, mentioned in passing references, but Tom had never given her a full confessional of his early life – nor had she pressed him to.

"Since I've heard about you and your father," Paris continued, "I think it's only fair that you hear about me and my son. He was a promising young graduate. He wanted a post on the Enterprise, and he would have gotten it, too, but I had his name removed from the list. I was worried he'd get the position because of me. I thought I was helping him, but I see now that I was only doing what _I_ thought was right for him – not what _he_ thought was right for him." He cleared his throat slightly. "I'd like to help him find a new position, one that he really wants."

B'Elanna gave herself a moment to take a deep breath, thinking through her response. Her first thought was, _What a petaQ. No wonder he was always so angry at you._ But her second thought was to consider which was worse – an absent parent like her father, or a parent who had good, if entirely misguided, intentions like the admiral? She only hoped she would be like neither to Miral. _He's trying to make it right now, B'Elanna, and you know he and Tom will never talk about this. _

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

Owen Paris picked up a second padd from the table and activated it. "There's a design lab and test flight center at Starbase 174 –" He stopped suddenly, and his face tensed. "We'll have to continue this later. You're dismissed."

It took a moment for B'Elanna to register what he had said. He continued reading the padd, ignoring her. With a shake of her head, wondering at the sudden change in his attitude, she rose and headed for the door.

* * *

"At the time, I thought he was doing it again – making me feel that we had made progress, that he really cared, only to just shut down," B'Elanna explained. "I guess it runs in the family."

"Hey," Tom protested. "I do not shut down."

Harry nearly laughed outright, sharing a moment with B'Elanna at Tom's expense. "I've never heard that story about the Doctor's hearing before," he said to Andrew and Miral, after a moment.

"Wait a minute," Andrew said for clarification. "You didn't know about Admiral Janeway's resignation before?"

B'Elanna, Harry, and Tom all shook their heads.

"It's not in my service record either," Janeway informed him.

"So what happened with the Doctor's verdict?" Miral asked. "Did your strategy work?"

Janeway gave a crooked grin. "Ask them."

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, 2378 – Debriefings, Day Twelve**

The Doctor paced the corridor outside his debriefing room. It had been three hours since Admiral Paris had entered and disrupted his proceedings, and he'd heard no word from the panel since.

Suddenly Reg Barclay and Lewis Zimmerman came charging down the corridor, marching in step with one another, with determined looks on their faces.

"We came as soon as we got your message," Zimmerman explained. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Admiral Paris said Captain Janeway resigned her commission, and they dismissed me. No one has said anything since then." The Doctor looked with some panic at Reg. "They hadn't announced their ruling."

"I'm sure it's fine," Reg said, for once calm for his friend's sake. "Starfleet isn't going to let anything bad happen to you."

"I can't believe she abandoned you in the middle of the proceedings," Zimmerman said with a disapproving shake of his head.

"She wouldn't abandon the Doctor," Reg said resolutely. "I'm sure there's a reason."

"I'm just grateful the two of you are here," the Doctor admitted. Reg nodded, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. The Doctor's eyes locked with Zimmerman's, mirrors of his own, and they exchanged in that glance all that couldn't be said with words. Past quarrels aside, Zimmerman had come to defend his creation, and that was something the Doctor would never forget.

* * *

**Santa Fe, Residence of Phoebe Janeway**

Starfleet, of course, did not let Kathryn Janeway resign her commission. As she'd hoped, they recognized her as a kind of figurehead whom they needed to keep on their roster of heroes. The Dame of the Delta Quadrant. Courageous Captain of the Victorious Voyager. Hero of the Homecoming.

She had only been at her sister's studio a few hours when Owen Paris appeared on the com system. His face was flushed, and his usually twinkling eyes bored at her like phaser beams, but she held her ground.

"The Doctor has been granted citizenship and, subsequently, the right to determine what happens to his program," he reported after giving her a dressing-down. "And Tom and B'Elanna's committees decided they've obtained enough information and adjourned."

"And?" she prodded. His reprimand had been entirely perfunctory, she knew; she held the power now, and she savored it.

"And they're going to announce that B'Elanna has to pass exams for all the Academy courses she missed, and Tom has to go through pilot recertification."

Tom could _administer_ the recertification test. But his father knew that, so Janeway assumed it had been some kind of compromise on the committee's behalf. Something to make it seem as though Tom and B'Elanna had been punished for their involvement in the Maquis and had earned their commissions – out of fairness to other officers. Proving their salt, Janeway knew, would annoy them both, but it would probably make things a lot easier for them in the long run. There would be less that others could hold against them later.

She nodded her approval.

"It was a foolish thing to do, Kathryn."

"It was not foolish, Admiral. I calculated the risks and took the necessary actions."

The way she clung to her convictions made him shake his head with a smile. "I don't know if I should thank you or court martial you," he admitted.

Janeway smiled back. "Well, I'll take both thanks and a court martial if it makes it easier for you."

"By the way," the admiral continued, his voice now much lighter. "There were a few other outcomes to your gambit. Congratulations, _Admiral_."

She had determined that she was either done with Starfleet or going to be made an admiral. The first choice would bring extreme displeasure; after all, she'd devoted her life to Starfleet. But it would mean far fewer headaches. The second choice was equally unattractive. Out of captaincy, she'd be stuck behind a desk, away from the actual day-to-day exploration and discovery. A bureaucrat.

"Let me guess," she said. "Admiral Janeway will be instrumental in improving Starfleet's intelligence on the Borg and other Delta Quadrant hostiles."

"You wouldn't want to command another ship," Paris said gently, from experience. "It's never the same the second time around."

"No, I suppose you're right." Janeway sighed. "Who's going to take over my ship?" She couldn't imagine anyone besides her or Chakotay taking command of Voyager, and with Chakotay back in civilian life it could easily be a stranger in what some of the crew called "the big chair." She held her breath while she waited for the answer.

"Voyager's being taken out of service," he informed her.

Janeway couldn't hide her relief. "Voyager wouldn't be the same with any other crew."

"Or any other mission," he added. "We've also enacted several new regulations. I'll send you a copy this afternoon. And the Federation Council has decided to throw a homecoming ball in your honor. They've requested that all the former Voyager crew attend."

"They just went home!"

"I know," Paris conceded, "but now you'll finally get the welcome home you deserve."

Janeway hated the thought of the crew who weren't on Earth having to leave their homes to return for a party that should have been thrown a month earlier, but one couldn't exactly say no to the Federation Council. And, anyway, the way they'd parted, one by one after their debriefings, without having a chance to meet each other's families or say proper goodbyes, was unbefitting such a fine group.

"It's about time."

* * *

**San Francisco, Residence of Admiral Owen Paris**

"B'Elanna!" Tom called as he threw open the door to the house. "Hey, are you here? They adjourned today!"

B'Elanna came down the stairs in a hurry with a broad smile on her face. "Mine, too. Your father just commed with their announcement."

"And?" Tom asked with anticipation as he put his arms around her.

"I have to pass Academy exams, which sounds like a royal pain, but –"

"But then you're in."

"Then I'm in."

Tom squeezed her tightly, his face radiating with happiness. "I have to pass a recertification test," he told her she began to lightly kiss any part of his face she could. "B'Elanna," he tried to protest, but her lips cut him off. "Hey, B'Elanna –" She smothered him with a real kiss, and he acquiesced. They could talk later. A huge weight had just been lifted from their shoulders. And as her kiss deepened, Tom realized just how great a weight it was. B'Elanna, his passionate Klingon lover, was coming back to life. "Let's go somewhere to celebrate," he suggested as he embraced her, breathing in the smell of her hair.

"How about that restaurant you and your mom were talking about last night?"

"No, no, I mean, let's _go_ somewhere tonight. Like Fiji."

B'Elanna pulled away from their embrace enough to look at him with heavy eyelids. "Tom," she said throatily, "if we go somewhere tonight, I think we're going to have to stay until tomorrow."

Tom's heart rate immediately skyrocketed, and he struggled to keep his breathing even. _God, I want her so badly._ "Have you ever been to the caves of Borneo?" She shook her head. "Never? What about Victoria Falls?"

"No," she answered.

"Haven't you been anywhere on Earth?" he asked without thinking.

"Tom," she said with irritation, "I didn't grow up here. The only time I lived on Earth was when I was at the Academy, and I was a little too busy to go sightseeing." She pushed away from him and turned to head back up the stairs, and Tom was immediately sorry he'd spoiled the moment.

"Hey," he said gently, touching her elbow. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I wasn't thinking. But this is a good thing. It means there are a lot of places we can see together for the first time."

B'Elanna turned around with a half-smile, and Tom knew he was forgiven, at least for the moment. She studied him, and slowly the longing returned to her eyes. She nodded. "We have a lot of work to do, Lieutenant," she determined, placing her arms carefully around his neck. "It's a pretty big planet."

"You sure you're up to the task?" he teased, tipping his head toward hers. He placed his hands on her hips, in prime position to pull her against him for a kiss when the moment came.

"Well, let's see. I've lost ten kilos in the last three weeks," she reported, "and my daughter seems happier when her grandparents put her to bed at night than when I do it, and I really should take off my old Voyager uniform and put on the new one."

"I can help with the undressing," Tom said softly, "but I'm not sure I like the part about putting clothes back on." He kissed her lightly. "Borneo? Tonight?"

B'Elanna nodded as she leaned in for another kiss. "I'm not sure I can wait that long."

* * *

**Starfleet Academy**

It was like taking a trip back in time – and not just because she was working on advanced temporal mechanics. B'Elanna was sitting at a desk in an empty lecture hall in a place she never thought she'd set foot in again. In front of her was a padd with the final examination for advanced temporal mechanics, one of the few classes she had not finished when she was a cadet. She was quickly working her way through questions about cause and effect loops, the Temporal Prime Directive, spatial fissures. There was even a question about the theory of the warp threshold – a theory she herself had been instrumental in proving. So far, it was a piece of cake.

She found Icheb at lunchtime, and they ate together amiably. As he droned on about his class in early Federation history, he looked, to B'Elanna's eyes, as if he had adjusted to his new environment. When a group of cadets came to walk with him to afternoon class, B'Elanna waved him off, happy to see he was making friends his own age.

In the afternoon she reported to an instructor with curly blond hair whose task was to evaluate her engineering protocols simulation. "Just remember that every command you give has to follow regulations," he warned kindly. "It's a lot easier for cadets who've only studied engineering texts than for those of us who've been out in the field." He gave a smile. "We both know it doesn't always work out so perfectly on a starship."

As he began calling up the program, B'Elanna asked, "What starship service have you done?"

"Combat on the USS Defiant during the war," he answered.

"Oh." She'd read reports about the war but couldn't totally imagine what the Dominion had been like as an enemy. _Worse than the Hirogen?_ There was no time to wonder. The holodeck program started, and B'Elanna froze momentarily.

She was standing in Voyager's main engineering section. That surprised her greatly. She'd expected a nondescript ship with blank holograms as crew. Instead, her own crew were walking around her, including some whose lives had been lost. She understood suddenly the nature of the exam. Everything she had done and been on Voyager had to be pushed aside; they wanted her to show she knew the rules.

Lieutenant Joe Carey handed her a padd and informed her of an emergency situation with the plasma manifolds. B'Elanna concentrated on the fact that this was not the Carey whom she'd beaten for the position of chief engineer and who had died before they returned home. She issued orders to him and several nearby crew members.

One difference to the holo-Voyager she noted was that the Maquis crew were not present. That made her challenge of adhering strictly to protocols much easier. The Maquis crew were always proposing new ideas and strategies. It had sharpened her as an officer and engineer. On Voyager adhering to regulations was sometimes a luxury; here, however, there could be no relying on "old Maquis tricks."

Suddenly the warp core began losing antimatter containment. The computer sounded the alarm. Two engineers standing near a console facing the core received plasma burns as the console blew out. A core breach was imminent.

"Everybody out!" she called. "Move!"

Stopping the core breach was not an overly complex procedure, B'Elanna knew, as she had stopped plenty in her days. Ordinarily she would hurry her team out, close the bulkhead behind them, and frantically scramble to save all their lives. But this scenario was different.

She had an officer who was their designated antimatter containment specialist. Her mind flashed back to what Admiral Paris had said about delegating.

"Marcus!" she yelled over the din. "Get that containment under control! That's an order!"

The engineer nodded and hurried to the appropriate work station. B'Elanna did not turn around to look at him while she waved the rest of the team out the door and triggered the emergency protective bulkhead behind them. She accessed a console in the corridor to monitor his progress while calling the bridge to alert them.

"Bridge, we're two minutes from a core breach. If he can't get it stabilized in one, I'm ejecting the core."

She began entering the commands to bring the ejection subroutines on line. With her finger poised over the final button, she counted down the seconds with the computer. Marcus finished in fifty-nine.

The warp core returned to normal, the computer stopped signaling its alert, and engineering returned to normal for a second. Then the simulation ended, and B'Elanna found herself standing in the grid of the holodeck. She'd been through much worse situations in space, all of which came with the very real possibility of death. This situation, though, came with the very real possibility of earning a commission.

And she'd passed.

* * *

For the second time in less than six months, Tom Paris was sitting next to a flight instructor, trying to prove his salt. And for the second time, he was finding the experience less than enjoyable.

"Now, Mr. Paris, please access the maneuvering thrusters and engage in change of heading by three degrees to the starboard."

The flight instructor sitting next to Tom had a demeanor that reminded him of the Doctor – attempting to be gentle, but failing to cover his arrogance. Tom felt completely degraded piloting the small shuttle as if he were a child being taught how to ride a hovercraft. He'd probably trained more pilots than this instructor ever had, and he'd certainly been through worse scrapes out in space than this Earth-based instructor could imagine. He wondered if he had treated Voyager's helm division the same way when he tested them; he certainly hoped not.

"Excellent, Mr. Paris."

The praise was even worse. Tom understood that, for the sake of record-keeping and fairness, he needed to pass certain mandated exams, but he didn't need to be patronized along the way.

"Let's try the impulse engines now, Mr. Paris. I want you to take us into orbit. That means we will be leaving the atmosphere."

Tom clenched his teeth and asked what level of orbit, suspecting that the question had been a trick one.

"Ah, excellent again, Mr. Paris. As the pilot you must defer to the commanding officer's wishes. Put us into a geosynchronous orbit. That means –"

"I know what it means," Tom grumbled.

"In a shuttle mission of two days, what is the protocol for helm activity at the beginning of the second day?"

"Verify course heading and complete a diagnostic of the navigational array," Tom replied. The questions were easy, but he and B'Elanna, not wanting to take any chances, had worked late into the night the past week quizzing each other on every section of every regulation. He probably could have recited the entire navigational code if the instructor had asked.

"Very good, do that now."

He poked a few commands into his console. Since they were in orbit, there was no course heading to verify. He went straight to the diagnostic. "The navigational array's all right, but we've got a 1.2 percent variance in our starboard aft thruster."

"How do you rectify that?"

"Alert the commanding officer and await orders."

"Let's assume you're alone in the shuttle."

Tom wasn't going to be stumped now. "Starfleet protocol for shuttle missions 14.3.7 specifies that no officer should be sent on a mission in a shuttle alone unless he is the commanding officer and unless there are no other surviving members of the crew."

"I see I can't trick you." The flight instructor tapped the console in front of him. "I've restored the starboard thruster. Set a course for 1276 mark 8 at full impulse." Tom did as instructed and waited for the instructor to verify that he knew how to do it accurately. "Engage."

The shuttle lurched to life, and they began speeding toward Mars. After a moment, the instructor called an all-stop, and Tom artfully cut the impulse engines while simultaneously firing the reverse thrusters and increasing power to the inertial dampers.

The test was so rudimentary that it was difficult for him not to throw in any bells and whistles. In his years as a pilot he had flown ships through plasma storms, landed a starship on a planet's surface, and maintained speed and direction in the wake of phaser fire and threats of core breaches, punched his way through other ships' shields – he had done it all, and asking him to prove that he knew how to enter a course heading and engage was a bit silly.

But Tom knew this was not about testing his skills. He'd been a renegade for too long. He was here to prove those days were over. He summoned his inner resolve and waited for the next order.

* * *

"So B'Elanna passed her exams, and I passed the piloting test," Tom explained, "and the next thing I knew, this admiral with a very familiar face was putting two pips on my collar."

Janeway smiled adoringly at him. "I really hated those uniforms, but I loved seeing you and B'Elanna in them."

"And with my hearing resolved," the Doctor added, "Reg made a slight update to my wardrobe."

Reg nodded. "He didn't want to be the only one still wearing the old uniform."

"How was Borneo?" Libby asked Tom and B'Elanna with a smirk.

"Don't answer that," Miral quickly interjected.

"Oh, I see," Andrew teased. "When it's about my dad, you laugh. When it's your parents, you can't take it."

She scowled. "I always wondered why you guys went there every year."

"An anniversary, of sorts," Tom said, shooting a grin at B'Elanna. "We had a lot of fun there."

"We had a lot of fun at your house while you were there, oh, about nineteen years later," Andrew informed him.

"Kahless, Drew, shut up," Miral ordered. This time it was B'Elanna's turn to look surprised.

With grace and tact, Elina turned to Chakotay. "As I understand it, you and Seven of Nine returned to Earth for the party and got to see Joe and everyone else again?"

"I take it the Doctor has told you something about her?"

Elina smiled. "Joe's told me he was in love with her."

"Then you can understand," Chakotay said, "how close they were. I didn't really want to attend the party, but Seven was eager, if only to see the Doctor and Kathryn again."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Kairos III, Residence of Chakotay and Seven of Nine, 2378**

"Both Admiral Janeway and the Doctor have sent requests that we attend the party at the Federation Council," Seven of Nine said, staring up at the ceiling with her hands resting on her exposed stomach. "I responded to the Doctor, and he –"

"Seven," Chakotay interrupted, rolling over toward her, "this is one of those times when you shouldn't talk about trivial things. You shouldn't be talking at all."

Seven of Nine turned toward him with a smile. He put a strong arm around her and pulled her close. "This is the time when we're supposed to be enjoying intimacy?"

"Something like that," he murmured.

Seven lay a hand on each side of his face, and Chakotay admired how each time she initiated a kiss, it was as sweet as her first. For someone who was so powerful in every other aspect of her life, Seven was remarkably tender in bed. "I still insist we respond to the admiral," she murmured back in good humor. "I do not consider her or the Doctor 'trivial.'"

Chakotay groaned. "We will," he assured her. He decided to change the subject. "I was thinking that maybe you'd like to go by 'Annika' now."

"Why?"

"Because you're gaining a new identity here," he explained gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Because you're not Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, anymore."

"Who am I now?" Her eyebrow lifted, challenging him.

"You're Annika Hansen, resident of Kairos III, citizen of the Federation."

"Currently involved in an intimate relationship with Chakotay," she finished with pursed lips.

Chakotay gave her a warm smile in return. Seven pushed him onto his back and braced her hands on his chest. "I will comply," she said from her superior position, "if you confirm our appearance at the party to Admiral Janeway."

Chakotay felt his good mood fading. It was always like that between them, moments of happiness punctuated by misunderstandings and dissatisfaction. He wondered when Seven would fully adapt to her humanity, so they would be able to get along more smoothly. So she would stop ruining moments. Surely it was only a matter of time.

They had to go to the party, he knew. It was the right thing to do diplomatically and politically, not that he cared much about either of those things anymore. It was also the right thing to do for Janeway, to show their support for her to the entire Federation. And he could see B'Elanna and the others again. And the Doctor, with whom he hadn't really spoken since he had plucked Seven away. And, of course, it was the right thing to do for Seven – Annika. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though he wasn't yet ready to admit to himself, much less to her, Chakotay thought she might not be as happy with their pastoral life as she expected to be. It might be good to return to the hustle and bustle of Earth for awhile.

"It was my fault," Seven said softly.

Chakotay lifted his head from the pillow to look at her. "What?"

"You and Admiral Janeway got along well until Voyager entered Borg space, and I came aboard."

"No, Seven, no," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. How could she think that? "Admiral Janeway and I will always care for each other. We lived through an incredible experience together. It's true our relationship changed over the years, but that has nothing to do with you." _It has to do with Kathryn's unwillingness to deal with her emotions and my unwillingness to take charge of the situation._ He searched her eyes with a frown, looking for a sign of acceptance of his words.

"I'm not as naïve as you think I am," Seven said unexpectedly. She pushed off his chest and rose from the bed. "You continually patronize me because you think I am incapable of understanding complex emotions." She pulled on her robe and tightened the belt around her waist with a jerk. "But you underestimate me. There are things I see that you don't."

As she stalked out of the bedroom, Chakotay lay back on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

**Earth, Santa Fe, Residence of Phoebe Janeway**

"I wish I could wear civilian clothes," Kathryn complained, tugging at the shirt of her dress uniform. "Will you look at this thing? Who designed this?"

"I think it's fine," Phoebe said with disinterest from her position sprawled out on the bed. "Oh, god, Kathryn, this takes me back. You getting ready for a big date, and me lying on your bed, watching you. I wanted to be just like you when I got older."

Kathryn turned away from the mirror to look at her. "And now?"

Phoebe laughed. "I can't imagine anything worse."

"Very funny." She turned back to the mirror and frowned at what she saw. She looked like a penguin in the white top, which had the subtlety of something designed by the Ferengi. "I'd give anything for my old red dress tunic."

"Red's not your color. You look good in whites and creams."

"Really? I always wear ivory or beige when I'm off-duty at a party." In spite of Phoebe's reassurance about the color, she still hated the fit of her new uniform. And her face and hair did little to reassure her. Had she really had that many lines around her mouth the last time she looked in a mirror? "You have to help me with my hairstyle," she determined.

Phoebe propped herself up on an elbow. "It looks terrible," she agreed. "Are you growing it out, or have you just forgotten to get it cut?"

"Neither," Kathryn admitted. "What do you think I should do? When I first cut it, it was…bouncier. Chakotay said it made me look ten years younger."

"Oh, did he?"

"Yes," Kathryn shot back, "until I changed the style a little and one day, in the middle of an argument, he implied that I looked like an old maid."

"That's not very nice."

"I suggested he'd gotten fat, so I guess we're even." She tried piling her hair up on her head, but it wasn't quite long enough. "Come on, help me."

Phoebe begrudgingly rose from the bed and joined her sister at the mirror, where she began to experiment with Kathryn's hair. "I think you should try something like this," she suggested, holding the hair into a low ponytail. "It looks Starfleet-appropriate, but it's not too matronly."

"What do you know about being Starfleet-appropriate?"

"Not a lot." Phoebe returned to the bed. "So you'd better school me if I'm going to be your date."

Kathryn sat beside her. "I really appreciate you coming with me," she said seriously. "I don't think I could manage alone."

"I'm happy to do it, but you know there are other people you could ask."

"Like Mom?" They shared a laugh. "Chakotay was always my date for the last seven years," Kathryn remembered sadly. "And he was good at it, too. He'd always pick me up at my quarters and stay by my side all night, and when I was ready to leave, no matter what he was doing, he'd walk me home."

"Kate, you have to accept that your mission on Voyager is over."

Kathryn held up her hand. "I know, I know. I was just trying to give you a few pointers."

"I promise I won't leave your side all night," Phoebe pledged. "I can't wait to meet my predecessor. I already feel as though I know him because you talk about him so much."

"Who, Chakotay?" Kathryn shook her head. "I don't think he's coming. He and Seven haven't responded to my letter. It's a shame, though. I'd like you to meet Seven."

"I can't wait to meet the dashing Tom Paris whose picture I've seen in the newsfeeds. You must have had a crush on him for awhile."

"Oh, Phoebe, he's ten years younger than I am. Besides, he's an overgrown child."

"So?"

"So he amuses me, and I care about him – and his wife – but that's it. And if you wanted to meet them, you could have at any time, you know. How long has it been since you've seen Tuvok?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Probably ten years. Listen, Kathryn, can you take off that uniform? I can't talk seriously to you while you're wearing that thing."

Kathryn gave a wry half-smile. "You really know how to boost my confidence."

* * *

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

"Speaking of Phoebe," Chakotay said, "she called yesterday when you were at the office. The dog's having puppies."

"Again?"

"Apparently."

Libby stood up, collecting a few of the empty plates. "We should get this mess cleaned up," she declared as she set the dishes on the kitchen counter. Harry and Reg jumped in to help, over the admiral's protests.

"We haven't heard about the party yet," Andrew complained.

"What's to tell?" his mother asked rhetorically. "There was a boring party, and then they all went on to their new assignments. The end."

"It started with a party and ended with a party," Janeway said.

"But the first one was much better," Tom reported.

"Agreed," the Doctor added. "The second one was a little stuffy."

"But it was nice to meet everyone's family," Harry argued. "Tuvok introduced me to his wife and his daughter. He was really sweet. I remember thinking that he was going to miss beating me at kal-toh."

"He still does," Janeway told him with a laugh.

"I think he was feeling sentimental that day," Tom mused. "He said some things to me that were utterly…emotional."

* * *

**Earth, Paris, Place de la Concorde, Federation Council Reception Hall, 2378**

"Mr. Paris," Tuvok intoned, "while we have not often agreed about matters of decorum, I have always respected your performance of your duties aboard Voyager."

"Wait, wait, Tuvok," Tom interrupted with characteristic enthusiasm, "are you talking about all those times on the bridge that you told Harry and me to shut up?"

Tuvok's eyebrow nearly raised to his hairline, and he tipped his head sideways for a moment, considering. "I do not believe I have ever used that particular expression, Mr. Paris."

"Right," Tom said, unfazed. He folded his arms over his chest. "Anyway, what you're saying is that even though you think I'm pretty juvenile, you still liked serving with me?"

"Mr. Paris," Tuvok said with what Tom could only think of as a father's patience toward an unruly and dim child, "my personal preference has nothing to do with this situation. And you have once again put words in my mouth."

"So then your personal preference would not be to serve with me?" Tom challenged.

Tuvok sighed, and Tom tried not to laugh. It was, after all, their last goodbye. He owed it to Tuvok to make it a memorable one.

"Mr. Paris," Tuvok began again just as they were interrupted by B'Elanna.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked with nosiness acquired from her husband.

Tuvok looked as though he wanted to put them both in time-out. "We are not talking about anything, Lieutenant," he explained to her. "I am simply trying to prevent your husband from misinterpreting my words, yet he is determined to make this an impossible task."

B'Elanna grinned. "Consider it his way of telling you he's going to miss you, Tuvok."

"Hey, Tuvok," Tom said seriously, "I'm sorry I was giving you a hard time. That was a nice thing you said to me." He offered a hand, which Tuvok, after a sharp nod, shook.

"There you are," Harry declared as he approached them. He reached out toward the baby, and B'Elanna passed her over. As Harry cuddled her to his chest, he turned to the two people standing behind him. "I wanted to introduce you to my parents. John and Mary Kim, this is B'Elanna, and Tuvok, and Tom, and…Miral."

"It's so nice to meet all of you," Mary Kim said sincerely. "Harry has told us many stories about all of you."

"We've heard plenty of stories about you, too," Tom told her. "I feel like I'm meeting a legend in the flesh."

"Have you guys seen Chakotay and Seven?" Harry asked. "I wanted to introduce my mom and dad to them."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I've been waiting to talk to Chakotay all night. If he's here, I haven't been able to find him."

"If I see him, I'll tell him you're looking for him," Harry promised. "Oh, there's the captain. Mom, Dad, I want to introduce you to her." They turned and started to move off.

"Uh, Harry," B'Elanna called after him. "You don't mind giving the baby back, do you?"

He returned Miral sheepishly, and he and his parents set off.

"Lieutenant Kim," Tom said once they had gone. "Our Harry's really growing up."

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed.

"Sirs?"

The three turned to see two Voriks standing by them with their hands clasped behind their backs. It wasn't entirely clear which had spoken, but on closer inspection B'Elanna realized one was bearing the rank of lieutenant junior grade and the other was a full lieutenant. She turned to the lieutenant j.g. "Vorik? Congratulations on the promotion."

"You as well, Lieutenant."

"Are you going to introduce us to your twin?"

"Sirs, allow me to present my cousin Taurik," he introduced. "Taurik recently transferred from the Enterprise to Starfleet Command."

B'Elanna knew it was rude, but she couldn't help stepping close to the two young Vulcans to examine them for differences. "Cousins, huh? You're identical!"

"A fact which we were often able to use to our advantage when we were schoolchildren," Taurik deadpanned.

"I did not mean to interrupt your conversation," Vorik continued, "but I wished to express my gratitude for your leadership over the past seven years, Lieutenant Torres, and for your guidance, Commander Tuvok." He paused and turned toward Tom. Politeness always Vorik's forte, he added, "And for your…diversions, Mr. Paris."

"Thanks, I think." His eyes followed a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. "Anybody want a drink?"

"I do," B'Elanna said. "I'll come with you." She gave a crooked smile. "Vorik, would you care to do the honors?" Before he could answer, she thrust Miral at him. He cradled her gently, with more ease than B'Elanna had expected, and Miral looked positively content in his arms. Satisfied, she took Tom's elbow and headed across the room.

Just as she had raised a glass of champagne to her lips, she heard a familiar gentle voice in her ear. "Don't tell me you've had so much of that stuff that you've lost your daughter."

"Chakotay." She turned around and smiled warmly at him. Then she embraced him, her glass of champagne still in one hand. "I've been waiting all night to see you. Where's Seven?"

"It's Annika now," he reported, "and she's talking to the Doctor. How are you?"

"Oh, nothing unexpected to report. Tom and I ship out tomorrow for Starbase 174. You're looking at the new head of the design and research lab."

"Congratulations," he said sincerely. "You'll be great."

"Tom's pretty excited, too. I'll be working on the engines, and he'll be testing them. How are you?"

He was still smiling, but there was something in his eyes that B'Elanna couldn't quite pinpoint. "I'm fine," he said. "It's nice not to worry about crew evaluations and duty rosters for once."

"Hmm, I feel the exact opposite. I can't wait to get back to work."

"You were born to be an engineer," he agreed. "You'll probably have Miral passing you tools before she can walk."

"Baby's first hyperspanner?" B'Elanna laughed. "Chakotay, I…" She stopped. She didn't really know what to say, but she felt compelled to say something to him. Something serious. _My in-laws and their incessant need to talk about emotions are rubbing off on me. _

Chakotay seemed to sense this, and he nodded at her, putting a brotherly arm around her shoulder. "I should find Annika," he said. "Tell Tom hi for me, will you? And keep in touch."

"Don't you want to talk to him yourself?" B'Elanna heard herself asking as he moved away. She frowned. Taking another sip of champagne, she scanned the crowd for her missing husband. He was once again with the Vulcan crowd, having reclaimed both Miral and the group's attention. The other three were listening patiently, eyebrows raised in trademark fashion. She decided to make a rescue attempt, for the Vulcans' sake.

* * *

The party lasted until 2300, when the serving staff began clearing the tables and bars in a polite signal that it was time for the guests to leave. Tom and B'Elanna found Harry, whose parents had long since decided to go home. The Doctor had come and gone, as had Tuvok and several other friends.

"I didn't even talk to the captain tonight," B'Elanna realized.

"You mean, the _admiral_," Harry reminded her. "I guess she was pretty busy talking to the members of the Federation Council. Did you talk to Seven and Chakotay?"

"I talked to Chakotay for about five minutes, but not Seven."

"Me neither," Harry said with disappointment. He gazed around the rapidly emptying reception hall. "This wasn't really as much fun as I expected it to be. You guys want to walk to the transport together?"

Tom shook his head. "We already arranged to stay here in a hotel tonight, buddy. I guess this is goodbye?"

Harry nodded solemnly before offering each of them a hug. "Call me when you get to the starbase?"

B'Elanna smiled. She could tell both men were dreading the impending separation. She had to admit she was, too. "Bye, Starfleet. Go easy on your new crew."

As Harry walked away, Tom took B'Elanna's hand. He knew his friendship with Harry wasn't going to end any time soon – none of their friendships were, even if they hadn't gotten a chance to say hello or goodbye at the stiff diplomatic party. After a moment he and B'Elanna walked out of the Federation Council and toward their new lives.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

Miral's eyes narrowed as her father finished speaking. She looked between the former captain and first officer, whose version of the events at the party had been noticeably absent. Their conversations were now so banal – talking about puppies and prodding each other to eat more fruits and vegetables – that she couldn't imagine a time when every word had been loaded with the weight of things unspoken. "Admiral," she said carefully, "I'd like to hear your side of the story."

Janeway pursed her lips, examining the audacious lieutenant. Miral was no dummy; she'd guessed there was a lot more than she and Andrew had been told so far. Janeway had already resolved to tell them all the truth, and it seemed as good a time as any.

Janeway turned to Chakotay, who nodded at her encouragingly. "There's something about our homecoming that I've never told any of you, and I can't have it weighing on my conscience any longer." She drew in a breath and then turned to Miral, commanding, "Tell me what they told you about our arrival at McKinley Station."

"Uh, that was a few nights ago, but I guess the Doctor told us Grandpa ordered a communications blackout and told you to report to Mariana Two in the morning."

"That's not exactly the way it happened."

* * *

**Captain's Ready Room, USS Voyager, Docked at McKinley Station, 2378**

"We'll give everyone two weeks to adjust to the Alpha Quadrant," Admiral Paris said from the com. "During that time the McKinley Station crew will take care of Voyager, while Starfleet Command looks over your logs. Then we'll start the debriefings. You can have your Starfleet personnel disembark starting in another hour. They should transport directly to Starfleet Medical for examination. We'll ask the former Maquis to remain on board for tonight, until we can arrange the proper security protocols."

"What kind of security protocols?" Janeway asked with concern.

"This wasn't my decision, Kathryn," Paris said, as if warning her not to get angry with him. "But we're going to have to decide if they should stand trial. Getting lost in the Delta Quadrant for seven years may have been a rough punishment, but they've never had formal hearings. There has to be something on record."

"You have to be kidding," Janeway heard herself saying. "Haven't you been following my reports? Chakotay, B'Elanna – your _daughter-in-law_ – they're good officers. They're not criminals."

"I know," he assured her. "I'm sure it'll all just be a matter of protocol. But we can't let them walk free. That wouldn't be fair to all of their friends who served time. Besides, we're talking about people who were devoted to a cause. I'm sure if you ask them, they'd tell you that they want to make their positions public, that they want to have hearings."

Janeway shook her head. "I'm not letting two-thirds of the people on this ship leave while the rest have to stay here under lock and key."

"Captain…"

"I promised these people I'd look out for them. We've been serving together for _seven years_."

Paris shook his head. "I don't know what you expect me to say. Starfleet Security is calling the shots, not me. And they say your former Maquis have to stay on Voyager."

"Then we're all staying." The words flew out of her mouth without any forethought, and Janeway could imagine her father in his admiral's uniform scolding her for letting her temper get the better of her. But it _was_ a good idea, a way to protect the few by surrounding them with the many. Solidarity. "If some of my officers have to remain on board, then we all do."

"And tomorrow, when the Maquis are due to be transported to Starfleet Security?" Paris asked. "We can't put you in a holding cell. Or the children you have on board. How would that look to the rest of the Federation?"

Janeway silently agreed that voluntary incarceration might not be the best option. "Can't we all stay on Voyager?"

Admiral Paris sighed. "The McKinley Station crew will be making a sweep. You can't stay on board."

Janeway shook her head resolutely. "If you need two weeks to get ready for our debriefings, Admiral, you'd better find somewhere to put us – all of us. We're sticking together."

"I'd like to see my son," Paris said quietly. "I'm sure a lot of people would like to see their families."

_He doesn't even know he's a grandfather yet,_ she realized. She was silent for a moment as she contemplated the decision she was making. Stranding the baby – and Naomi and Icheb – and Tuvok, who had been hiding an illness from her, and Harry, who was going to burst if he didn't set foot in his family's home sometime soon. And Seven, who had never even seen Earth.

_How the hell is she going to adjust to this? And what exactly were she and Chakotay up to before they came to the bridge?_

Admiral Janeway had told her that Seven was going to die in the arms of her husband, Chakotay. Although the timeline had been changed, she could only assume that Seven was still going to adapt to humanity, enough to end up married. It had been her hope since Seven's first days on Voyager that she would be able to experience all the riches of human emotion, that she would be able to cast off any remaining traces of Borg dronedom. Seven had indeed made great progress over the last four years, but on Voyager people accepted her abrasive – albeit efficient – mannerisms because they knew her. Would the rest of humanity do the same?

She realized she couldn't protect Seven anymore. She couldn't protect any of them anymore. But she could stand beside them, suffering whatever came their way together.

"Don't you think your crew might have something to say about being kept away from their families?" Paris continued.

Yes, they would. They'd be upset – heartbroken even. But they'd understand. Harry wouldn't leave Voyager if he didn't know Tom and B'Elanna were safe. And she wouldn't leave Chakotay behind. No one on the ship would.

"Admiral," she insisted, "you'd better find a place where we can all wait this out because we're staying together."

* * *

"But Grandpa didn't say anything yesterday about the quarantine being your idea," Miral remembered with a furrowed brow.

Andrew shook his head. "He said he remembered 'some trouble' with the admiral," he reminded her. "Maybe he forgot what really happened. It was a long time ago."

"All those years," Harry said quietly, "everyone blamed Starfleet for treating us so terribly when we got back. That was your doing?"

Janeway nodded, but Chakotay intervened on her behalf. "She was doing what she thought she had to, Harry, to protect us all."

"The quarantine was your idea?" B'Elanna repeated, letting her brain process this new development. "We were trapped on a forty-degree island in the middle of nowhere with bugs and cabins without doors."

"But you weren't in a prison cell," Libby reminded her softly. She hadn't been a member of the Voyager crew, and she hadn't met Kathryn Janeway until years after Mariana Two. But they'd been friends for twenty years, and in all that time Janeway had been nothing but loyal to her friends. There was no reason to think she would ever do or had ever done anything to hurt them.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Janeway said in a low voice. "I can imagine you're all upset with me. Harry, you wanted nothing more than to get home to your family, and I kept you from them. Tom, B'Elanna, you had a new baby. But I couldn't let us get separated. You don't have to agree with my decision, but I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner."

Tom knew B'Elanna and Harry felt betrayed, but he could see the admiral's point. If he'd been told to leave B'Elanna behind on Voyager, he would have refused. He sat down beside Janeway, resting one hand on the back of her chair. "Is that why you were so isolated during our time on the island?"

"Partially," Janeway acknowledged. "I felt guilty that I was lying to all of you."

Tom gave her a small smile. "Those two weeks helped me and B'Elanna figure out what we wanted to do next," he said softly. "And work things out with our families. If we'd left Voyager right away, I'm not sure where we would have gone. Or where I would have gone without B'Elanna," he corrected.

"If it hadn't been for the quarantine," the Doctor added, "I probably wouldn't have been in communication with Seven – or the rest of you. I would have spent the entire time before the debriefings alone."

Harry watched how easily Tom and the Doctor forgave the admiral, but he wasn't quite ready to do so. She had lied to him, after all, and the first duty of every Starfleet officer was to tell the truth. He would never lie to the crew of the Rhode Island like that. Never.

He looked angrily at Libby, but her brown eyes beseeched him to be forgiving. As he thought about it, he started to realize that, as much as he'd wanted to get home, the two weeks on Mariana Two hadn't been all bad. He'd gotten to know Miral before Tom and B'Elanna moved away. Some of his friends had started new relationships. They'd all had a chance to adjust to their families and friends.

And, more importantly, they'd stayed together. If quarantine had been bad for morale, Harry could only imagine what would have happened if thirty of them had been hauled away by security forces. Janeway had protected them, in the only way she could see possible. He would do anything to protect the crew of the Rhode Island.

_Even lie to them for their own sake?_

_She could have told us the truth. At least the senior officers. We would have gone along with it._

_It was a long time ago, Harry._ The voice in his head wasn't his now; it was Libby's. _S__top worrying about the past. There's nothing you can do to change it now. _

"Admiral," he declared, "you should have told us. We would have agreed."

"I know, Harry," she admitted freely, "and I'm sorry."

B'Elanna was still angry. "Did you know about this?" she asked Chakotay.

He nodded. "Not at first, but after a few years."

"And you weren't upset when you found out?" It might have been for her own protection, but B'Elanna still didn't like being lied to, especially not for twenty-five years. "What else haven't you told us?" she demanded.

* * *

**Debriefings, 2378 – Day One**

Finally the panel called for a recess, and Janeway stormed out of her hearing room and into the main hall, where she found B'Elanna and Chakotay. "Are you all right?"

Even though he was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his head hanging, Chakotay answered, "I'm fine. You?"

"These damned brass. Have they been giving you a hard time?" She didn't need to wait for an answer; it was clear from their faces. "B'Elanna, why are you standing like that?"

"Um, I, I haven't nursed since this morning…"

"Why didn't you ask for a recess?" Janeway could hear how angry she sounded and hoped that B'Elanna understood it was not directed at her. She pushed her engineer back into the hearing room and in front of the panel of admirals. "This woman just gave birth two weeks ago, which you know, as it's in her file, and you no doubt interrogated her about it. You have held her here for eight hours, and she needs to be with her baby for her own medical reasons and for the health and safety of that child. I request that you reconvene her debriefing tomorrow morning."

"Request approved."

Janeway nodded curtly, satisfied, and marched out. She marched all the way to Admiral Cabot's office, where his assistant informed her that he was sitting in on Chakotay's debriefing for the day. Janeway wasted no time returning to the main lobby. She was through playing games; it was time for Starfleet to tell them what the hell was going on.

She burst into the room being used for Chakotay's hearing, and Admiral Cabot paused mid-sentence, spinning on a heel to see who had intruded on him so abruptly. "Is there something I can do for you, Captain?"

"Yes," Janeway said with determination. "You can tell me – tell my crew – once and for all what you plan to do with the Maquis. I have thirty crew members who are worried sick that they're going to be detained, and another hundred who are equally worried about losing their friends. I've written letters, I've filed formal petitions, and now I think we deserve a definitive response."

Cabot regarded her, and for a moment Janeway wondered if she had gone too far. _No. Let them punish me if they want to, but they owe us some answers._ "This whole mess of a crew you've created puts us in an awkward position, Captain. If the Federation embraces your former Maquis, what does that say about those who are still being detained? If we allow your crew to remain in Starfleet, will that open a floodgate? Will we have to allow all former Starfleet Maquis to return to the uniform?"

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Janeway asked. "Don't we need capable officers after the war with the Dominion?"

Cabot smirked. "I see you've been using your time on Mariana Two to catch up on current events." He sighed and looked at the members of the panel. "There's no doubt that Chakotay and some of the other Maquis were helpful to have aboard Voyager, Captain. We believe you when you say they were an asset to your crew. But if we allow them to remain in Starfleet, we'd be sending a message that it's acceptable for Starfleet officers to break laws, take justice into their own hands, to abandon the principles of the Federation to serve their own sense of righteousness. We can't allow that to happen."

"Maybe we'd be sending a message that Starfleet and the Federation are places where people of different ideas are welcome, where people who have paid the appropriate penalty for their crimes are accepted back into society with open arms."

"Ah, but that's just the problem, Captain, isn't it? They never paid any penalty."

Janeway grasped for the last argument she could think of. "They were stranded in the Delta Quadrant for seven years, Admiral. Away from their families and friends – and, most importantly, away from the cause they'd devoted their lives to. Isn't that punishment enough?"

Cabot shook his head. "Captain, if we tell your former Maquis their time on Voyager was time served, what message does that send to your Starfleet crew? What crime did they commit that warranted a seven-year exile?"

She could see his point, and she was sure the crew would, too – but she also knew he didn't know them the way she did. "Admiral, I guarantee you the Starfleet crew won't utter a word if you consider the Maquis having served their time on Voyager. I don't think you understand. We're Voyager. One crew. We always have been. My Starfleet officers aren't hoping to see the Maquis get their due; they're friends. Some of them are romantically involved. They're hoping to see them get pardoned. Please, Admiral, tell me you're not going to arrest them." Janeway raised her chin slightly in defiance, ready to issue her final concession. "I'll serve their time if that's what it takes."

"Kathryn, do you understand what you're saying?" Captain Seaborn called from across the room.

"I do," she said, looking at him with piercing eyes. "They're my crew, Brett. I'm responsible for their actions."

"They committed those actions before you even met them," he reminded her.

"It doesn't matter," Janeway said with a shake of her head. "They're my crew. Arrest me and put me on trial as their leader. I'll serve each of their terms successively." She stood as still as a statue, chin still slightly lifted, eyes forward, wondering if she really believed what she was offering or if she was bluffing – and, more importantly, wondering if they believed it.

Cabot let out a small breath, expelling his attitude of cool aloofness. "That won't be necessary, Captain. If formal charges are filed and they're found guilty, we'll consider their time served." Cabot's eyes met Janeway's, and she saw that they were much kinder now, that he was no longer some stranger in a Federation that wasn't at all like the one she'd left.

* * *

"You offered to serve our prison time?" B'Elanna said quietly. "I can't believe that."

"I couldn't watch Harry and Tuvok get pats on the back while you had to run the gauntlet," Janeway explained. "You were my chief engineer. And my friend."

B'Elanna looked at Tom, who raised an eyebrow at her. It was no secret in their circle that B'Elanna and the admiral weren't the closest of friends. They liked and respected each other, but they didn't have much in common. Hearing the admiral's confession now warmed B'Elanna.

Miral leaned toward Reg. "This story just got about a hundred times more interesting." He nodded in agreement, his eyes wide.

"Wait a second," B'Elanna said suddenly. "When you and I went back to the island that first night, when all the Maquis were amassing into a mob, why didn't you tell us they'd agreed not to send anyone to prison?"

"I tried," Janeway reminded her. "But they didn't give me a chance. And I really didn't know what had happened to Chakotay until he commed from Ecuador."

"Belize," he corrected. "And that was after my own fight with the brass."

* * *

**Debriefings – Day One**

"I asked you to justify to us why you should be allowed to stay in Starfleet, given that you left to join the Maquis and only started wearing the uniform again when you were left with no other choice?"

"I can't. I don't want to stay in Starfleet."

"You don't?"

"No."

Maybe his answer would have been different if he knew wearing the uniform would keep him at Kathryn's side for another seven years. Maybe it would have been different if he didn't have the nagging feeling that he was betraying everything he'd fought for seven years ago. Maybe it would have been different if his debriefing panel hadn't gone on and on with their questions, leaving him with the urge to run away.

But Chakotay knew he was making the right choice. He didn't want to head back out into space any time soon. It felt good to stand still for a while. In fact, except for the rain, Kathryn's attitude, and the fact that they weren't allowed to leave, he hadn't found Mariana Two all that bad. No, he would not return to a starship. He would find a piece of land where he could plant his feet. He would build things out of wood and grow his own food. He would close his eyes and turn his face to the sun.

And when he opened his eyes, he would look at the person he was sharing it all with, someone who only knew the cold touch of technology, but someone who, he thought, would fall in love with a simpler kind of life.

They excused him, and a security officer came to lead him to the transport facilities. Chakotay asked in vain what was going to happen to the other former Maquis; there was no way he was going to be able to leave Starfleet Headquarters, much less sleep peacefully that night, if he wasn't sure his friends would be safe. None of the panel answered him before he was hurried out the door.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about the rest of the crew!" he shouted as a second guard joined the first. They each grabbed an arm and forced him down the corridor. After a moment of their manhandling, Chakotay relented and let them lead him away from the briefing room – and his friends.

Starfleet wasn't completely unkind. They offered to help him find a place to stay for the night and arrange passage on a ship headed toward the colony on Kairos III where his sister was living. They even offered him the chance to contact Mariana Two, but Chakotay didn't want to have a private conversation with Seven in the middle of Starfleet Headquarters. He also didn't want to leave Earth until the debriefings concluded – until Seven and his friends were safe and off the island. He opted instead to contact an old friend in Belize, who happily agreed to let him stay as long as he needed in exchange for stories from the Delta Quadrant.

With mixed emotions he stepped onto the transporter pad.

* * *

"I told the crew you wouldn't abandon us," B'Elanna said. "I knew it must have been hard for you to leave San Francisco that night."

"I didn't want to leave you," he reiterated. "I just wanted to get away from Starfleet. Far, far away."

Libby couldn't help laughing a little. Chakotay and B'Elanna turned to look at her, and she explained, "Well, you're talking about how you wanted to get away from Starfleet, but then you ended up marrying one of its most decorated admirals."

"A very long time later," Janeway explained for Elina's benefit.

"All right," B'Elanna said definitively, leaning her elbows on the table, "I admit I wasn't paying much attention to anybody else during those two weeks. But all they –" She nodded in the direction of the Doctor and Harry – "seem to remember is that you were withdrawn and depressed, and that you –" She turned now to Chakotay – "didn't seem to care at all. Maybe it's time you told us what really happened between you."

"B'Elanna –"

"No, Chakotay," Janeway cut him off. "I said I was going to tell the real story."

"That doesn't mean you have to tell every detail," he argued.

"Hey," Harry told him, "my wife told my son I slept with someone on that island."

Chakotay gaped at him. "Who did you sleep with on Mariana Two?"

"Michaela Jenkins," Miral answered, nodding affirmatively at Chakotay's astonished expression.

"No," the admiral said in response to Chakotay's initial protest, "I think the charade has gone on long enough. Miral, Andrew, I can imagine that everyone told you how I never joined the group activities while we were in quarantine. It's true that it was partially out of guilt. I was also depressed. I was facing a big life change, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it. And, to be honest, I was upset that Chakotay and Seven had become involved."

* * *

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Ten**

Kathryn Janeway watched Seven of Nine head across the compound in the direction of the beach with the handle of a large food storage container stowed snugly in the crook of her elbow. In spite of the mud and the few drops of rain still shaking out of the trees, Seven looked determined to make another picnic for Chakotay on the beach.

Janeway sighed and turned away from the entrance to her cabin, hoping that if she didn't watch what was going on, she could pretend it wasn't happening at all.

_Be honest with yourself, Kathryn. Are you jealous?_

_Yes._

_Of what exactly?_

She reached for a book, hoping to bury her mind in a work of fiction and refusing to answer the question, even to herself.

"Kathryn?"

It was Chakotay. She spun around, caught completely off-guard. "Yes?"

He sized her up. She certainly didn't look as if she was expecting company. There were circles of dampness under the arms of shirt and sweat on her upper lip. Her hair, which was now just long enough to tuck up, was coming undone in frizzed pieces. He wasn't going to commit that image of her to memory, but he'd certainly seen her look worse. He imagined he looked equally unsightly.

"You want to talk?" he asked, hoping his voice was casual.

Five minutes earlier, the woman who was sharing his bed, who had a hold over him, had strong-armed him into agreeing to this conversation with Janeway. Seven was hell-bent on their reconciliation, but Chakotay knew it was really for her own peace of mind. The captain was important to her, and he was becoming so, and Seven needed her world to be harmonious. The key players had to get along. She was facing enough of a life change by landing on Earth and being thrust back into the folds of humanity. He could easily see how a disruption in the relationship between the captain and first officer was probably more emotional turmoil than she should have to handle, and he was sympathetic. When Seven had suggested forcefully that he would be happier if his relationship with Janeway was restored, he had agreed to speak to the captain before their picnic on the beach.

And, in truth, it wasn't just for Seven's sake. He wanted things to be right with Janeway again. He didn't want her to be sitting alone in her humid cabin all day. He didn't want her to be thinking and feeling something that he couldn't decipher. He wanted his role of confidant back. He wanted her back.

"About what?" Janeway asked.

She couldn't believe he had the nerve to offer her counseling. It wasn't that she expected him to be around for her at her convenience. He'd had a few passing flings over the years, as she had, but it was different to secretly steal away with someone who was like a daughter to her. From her perspective, he was the one who needed a friend to talk to. Someone to tell him to snap out of whatever had taken a hold of him.

Unless he was happy. She wanted him to be happy. Seven, too. And if they found happiness together, well…

"About the modifications to the deflector array," he said caustically. "About what's going on with you. What else would I want to talk about?"

The voice that was coming out of his throat wasn't his. It was bitter and sarcastic, and it was trying to hurt her. What had happened to him? He could almost hear B'Elanna, consoling him in her charmingly abrasive but loving way: _This is what you always do, Chakotay. You pick the wrong woman and let her make a fool of you. _Who was she talking about?

"I'm not sure what you mean," Janeway lied.

"I think you do."

She didn't recognize his tone. He didn't seem like the man who'd stood by her side every day for the past seven years. That man's voice was calm and soothing. It made her want to believe in things like Sky Spirits and the power of justice to prevail. The person standing in her cabin in a loose tunic and pants was someone new. Someone who, for some reason, had shown up to talk to her for the first time in over a week, only to attack her. What the hell was he so angry at her about?

She forced a smile. "I'm hot and sweaty, but other than that fine."

Technically he had fulfilled his duty. He'd promised Seven he'd ask the captain how she was, and he'd done that. It wasn't his fault she didn't give him a real answer.

What had he done to cause her to push him so far away? This wasn't the Kathryn Janeway he knew. She was warm, with a sense of humor, full of pride and convictions, yes, but not spite, not bitterness. Even when she had spent weeks hiding in her quarters from the crew, regretting her decision to strand them in the Delta Quadrant in the first place, she'd talked to him, treated him as though they were on the same team.

When had they become enemies?

"You'd better go," she said. "Seven's waiting."

Chakotay did not ask how she knew that. It was easier not to. He just nodded and left her cabin.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Earth, Mariana Two Science Outpost, 2378 – Quarantine Day Eleven**

Chakotay took a deep breath, wondering if he was making the right decision. Neelix would have been the best person for the job, or the Doctor, but, of course, neither of them was around. Tom would have done – she'd always had a soft spot for him – but he was absorbed in his own problems. B'Elanna would have been too blunt, and she was otherwise occupied anyway. And Harry had a big enough job worrying about Tom and B'Elanna. Seven would have ordinarily worked, but not for this particular conversation. Tuvok, though frequently her counsel, was all wrong for the task.

And he was the right person for it, even if he was the reason she was acting so strangely.

Since the previous day's conversation, he'd tried to enjoy his time with Seven, who had decided to stun him with the subject of whether or not they'd ever have children together (he'd have to remember to thank the Delaneys for that one). His pleasure, however, was hollow. Somewhere along the seventy thousand light-years, he realized, Kathryn Janeway had become more than his captain. She had become his best friend.

So here he was, ready to make whatever amends were necessary to win back her friendship.

He took a breath before calling out her name and entering her cabin.

She was curled up in an armchair with a bound book, and she looked up with surprise when she heard his voice. "Chakotay? I didn't expect to see you. I thought you'd be around the fire."

"I was," he said, taking a few steps further inside, "but then I decided to come here to ask you to join us tonight."

"I don't think so." She held up her book. "I'm only halfway through, and I thought I'd finish before I go to bed."

She sounded much friendlier than she had the last time they'd spoken, and he accepted it as a good sign. He took a few steps toward her. "Kathryn, what are you doing? You've been hiding in here since we arrived when you should be celebrating. We spent seven years trying to get home, and we made it. You should be enjoying your success."

"Some success," she said more to herself than to him.

"If you're worried about the crew," he said gently, "the best way to show them is to join them. Show your support."

"By doing what? Sitting around a fire like Neanderthals? I had enough of that on Hanon IV." She scoffed a little. "Hanon IV – who did we lose there? Hogan…and Lyman. We almost lost Naomi and Kes, too, as I recall."

Chakotay ventured closer, taking a seat in the chair opposite her. She wasn't fooling him. It was easy to hide behind a veil of guilt. While he had no doubt at all that she remembered every name and face lost on their journey, and while he expected that she could give exact dates and causes of death for each deceased crew member, he knew that wasn't the real reason for her self-imposed isolation. But he also knew that he couldn't accuse her. Yesterday he'd been too forceful, nearly saying outright that there was a problem that needed to be addressed. Kathryn didn't work that way. He had to be more surreptitious. "You're thinking about the lives of those who didn't make it back."

"I'm responsible for them."

"I know you are, Kathryn," he said with compassion, "but you're responsible for the lives of those who did, too."

"What are you getting at?"

"The crew needs its captain."

She set the book down on the table with a thud. "You can't have it both ways. Either this is vacation and I need to recreate, or I'm the captain and I have duties to my officers. You used to be a lot better at making a case, Chakotay."

_You're avoiding the issue,_ a voice in Janeway's head warned. She paced the floor in front of him, wanting equally for him to be gone and to confess all to him. She settled for somewhere in between. "I don't like feeling helpless."

"If you're upset about this quarantine, why not just think of it as time to adjust?" he suggested.

_You're absolutely the kind of person to find the bright spot in this. Damn you. _She wished she could tell him why they were marooned and let him hate her. It would have been easier. Instead, she lashed out. "Oh, no, you're going to get off with a little cheap philosophizing." But the sweet look in his brown eyes, the way she could see he was really worried about her – about them? – made her soften. "Have you talked to your family? Your sister?"

"Several times. You?"

Janeway nodded. "Do you know what I realized? My sister doesn't really know me anymore – not the way you do. When did that happen?"

Chakotay took her hand in his, hoping he wasn't being too brazen. "I feel the same way," he confided. "You're my family." She was staring down at their joined hands, and he felt a hot surge of guilt emanating from his spine. "We're all family now," he amended, carefully removing his hand. "And we want you to be with us at the fire tonight."

"The truth is," she said reluctantly, "I'd love to be there."

"Good," he said, flashing her a dimpled grin, "because it's Talent Night." He rose to his feet and offered her a hand without thinking.

"Oh, no," she protested, laughing, but she took his hand and followed him out of the cabin anyway.

* * *

They arrived at the campfire, and Chakotay took a seat beside Seven, still in good spirits after his talk with Janeway. Once settled, he realized that she was no longer with him, and he spotted her on the far side of the fire, sandwiched between Kashimuro Nozawa and Lydia Anderson. There was space beside him on the log, and he frowned, wondering why she had snubbed him. But Seven took his hand in hers, smiling and laughing freely over Baytart's coconut juggling. Across the fire he could see Janeway chatting with the two crewmen, and he mentally shrugged the incident off.

As Harry Kim's band began to play, Seven leaned her head close to his and murmured, "How was your conversation with the captain? I see you were successful in getting her to join the group."

Chakotay nodded. "I told her we missed her and got her to admit she missed us. You should try talking to her later, Seven. Whatever's going on with her, she still cares for you. I think she'd like to spend some time with you."

"I have become preoccupied with our relationship," Seven realized.

"That's very common with new relationships," he explained patiently. "But we have to find a balance. Spend some time with the captain tomorrow. Or Naomi and Icheb. I'll see if I can steal B'Elanna away from the baby for awhile, and we can meet up for dinner."

"That sounds like a good plan."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Twelve**

"If I'd have known we were going to have company for breakfast, I might have dressed differently," Chakotay said with a smile as he raised his cup of tea to his lips.

Seven frowned, processing the joke. "The Doctor cannot _see_ you." She paused for a moment. "He says to remind you that you're the one living in a cabin without a door."

"Good point, Doctor. I guess I'll have to watch what I wear all the time."

"We are in the middle of the main recreational facility," Seven reminded him. "We have encountered forty-seven crew members this morning. If you were concerned about your appearance, perhaps you should have chosen a different outfit before we left your cabin."

Chakotay took another drink of tea to cover a smile that was, he knew, entirely at Seven's expense.

Unfortunately, she was too smart for that particular ruse. "You are attempting to conceal the fact that you are laughing at me. Why?"

He set his tea down. "Because you make me laugh when you don't mean to," he answered earnestly, "and I don't want to hurt your feelings. But sometimes the way you don't understand humor is downright funny."

"Perhaps I should ask Commander Tuvok to teach me some 'knock-knock jokes,'" she replied. This time he laughed aloud, and he could tell from the quiver of her lips that she knew perfectly well she was being funny.

He grinned at her, ready to compliment her sense of comedic timing, when he saw Captain Janeway remove a small tray from the replicator, look directly at them, and then move to a table in the opposite direction. Seven must have noticed; her ocular implant didn't miss a thing. But whether she understood the nonverbal message Janeway was sending them, Chakotay doubted. He took another sip of tea and made a mental plan to speak yet again with the captain.

* * *

When he appeared at the entrance to her cabin later that morning, Janeway was not pleased to see him. She was still feeling humiliated from Talent Night, and she certainly didn't want Chakotay to once again coerce her into conversation.

"If you keep showing up her unannounced," she informed him, trying to couch her ire in humor, "I'll have to have Tuvok station guards outside."

"I was ready to talk to you somewhere more public," he replied coolly, "but you pretended not to see Seven and me at breakfast."

"I didn't think you wanted to be interrupted," Janeway lied graciously.

"The Doctor was talking to her, and we had an open seat at our table."

"Then you should have waved me over."

Chakotay put his hands on his hips. Frankly he'd had enough of their mutual issue-skirting. "You avoided us, Kathryn. Admit it. This is always what you do."

She was taken aback by his directness, which killed any remaining vestige of her polite façade. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"When you don't want to deal with a situation, you just pretend it doesn't exist." Chakotay could sense an argument on the horizon, but he suspected it would be better to get it all out in the open.

"How can you say that? I got Voyager through battles with the Borg."

"Oh, you're fine when it's combat or a scientific puzzle, but when you don't know what to say to someone, when you can't deal with your emotions, you just avoid the problem and hope it will go away. You did it with me for three years, you did it with Michael Sullivan, and now you're doing it again because of my relationship with Seven."

It was like a slap in the face. "I'm not doing anything," Janeway snapped, knowing how feeble she must have sounded.

"You're pushing both of us away because you can't handle the fact that we're dating," Chakotay insisted. "It's immature."

"How dare you talk to me like that! You're the one who went skulking behind my back."

"Behind your back?" He nearly laughed in her face. "I stood in front of your face for _seven years_. You made it very clear that you didn't want to pursue anything, and that I was more than free to do so – with someone else."

"Not with Seven."

"That's not your decision to make!"

"And I suppose it's yours?"

"No, it's hers. She's an adult. And she has real feelings for me that she's trying to explore. If you were paying attention, you'd see that."

"What the hell do you think I've been doing? She's been my under my constant care for four years. Where the hell do you get off deciding that you're the one to show her the way?"

"I'm sorry, do you want to be in a relationship with her?"

"No, but –"

"Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"No, I –"

"Well, she wants to be in a relationship with me," he continued, "and I want to be with her, and that's all that matters." He took only a slight breath before delivering the final blow. "You have no right to spread your misery around on other people. It's your own fault you're alone."

"Oh, go to hell!"

"You can swear at me all you like, Kathryn, but you know it's true." Chakotay's hands were once again on his hips, and he stood his ground, sensing he was winning the war.

"I was the captain of the ship!" Janeway reminded him. "What did you expect me to do? Drop everything and start giggling like a schoolgirl every time you walked onto the bridge?"

He shook his head, his voice dropping several decibels. "We both know you made that rule for yourself. Captains get involved with officers all the time."

"Not officers they're stuck with for the rest of their lives," she argued, her own voice leveling off. "Don't you think I wanted to enjoy my life like the rest of you? I had to think about the bigger picture. What if I became involved with someone and the relationship didn't work out?"

"I think," he said a little more gently, taking two steps toward her, "that's a very convenient answer."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think you were really worried about what would happen if it didn't work out. I think you were worried about what would happen if it did. That's why you pushed me away before anything even started. And Jaffen –"

"Don't talk about Jaffen."

He knew he had her. "Why not?"

"Because – because –"

"Because you were the happiest I'd ever seen you." He took another step toward her, his voice once again soft and rich. "Even when we were stranded on that planet together, I only just started to see you let go. But with Jaffen, you had. You were happy."

Janeway's jaw clenched involuntarily, and she turned away from him. "Then why the hell did you ruin it all?"

"It was a hard thing to do," Chakotay admitted.

"But you still did it."

"And you're still angry."

He was right about that, though she'd only come to understand it to be true in the past few days. She had a lot to be angry about: being taken away from a life she was supposed to be constructing on Earth, Chakotay's infuriatingly steady presence at her side, her discovery of someone she could spend her life with, and her subsequent decision to leave him behind. Her eternal duty to Voyager and its crew.

Chakotay would not relent. "He could have come with us, Kathryn. And you could have continued your relationship."

"He couldn't leave his life behind any more than I could mine," she argued quietly. She was determined not to let him steer the conversation anymore. "You're not the ship's counselor."

"No," he said in a velvety voice, "I'm your friend."

But Janeway wasn't going to melt just because of his lovely eyes and smooth talk. She shook her head very slowly. "My friend?" she repeated, her voice like gravel. "You didn't even have the integrity to tell me that you'd gotten involved with Seven. What kind of friend is that? When you came to talk to me last night, you made me believe that we were okay, and you –"

"Is this because I sat by Seven at the fire?" She didn't answer. "Come on, Kathryn, what did you expect me to do? Do you have any idea how torn I am between you?"

"Torn between us?"

"I care for Seven. I don't know if I'm in love with her, and I don't know how long our relationship is going to last, but she's a special person, and I don't take the responsibility of dating her lightly. But you're my friend, and I miss you. I need you." He shook his head, trying to figure out how to make sense of it to her. "And you're Seven's friend, too. She's hurt, and frankly so am I."

Janeway held his gaze, unflinching, as she said calmly, "Then I guess that makes three of us."

* * *

**Mariana Two – Quarantine Day Fourteen**

"Nutritional supplement number seventy-four?" Chakotay joked as he looked at the plate Seven was holding.

She smiled at him. "The ability to choose any dish that is programmed into the replicator can be overwhelming," she explained, handing the plate to Icheb. "And I prefer to make my own food."

"So, Icheb, what have you decided?" Chakotay asked, trying not to make a face as Icheb munched on the unappetizing dish. "What's going to come next for you?"

"I would like to start the Academy as soon as possible," he answered. He sized up his regeneration alcove. "They will have to make special arrangements in the dormitory for this."

"The Doctor believes you will not need to continue regenerating much longer," Seven reminded him quietly. "But Starfleet Academy is prepared to make any necessary modifications to the living space for cadets. I will send the dormitory director complete installation and maintenance instructions."

Chakotay was touched as he watched them interact. To an outsider Seven might have seemed coolly matter-of-fact with Icheb, but it was clear to him that she exhibited maternal concern. It was also clear to him that, although neither Seven nor Icheb said anything, they were going to miss each other greatly.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" Icheb asked Seven.

She looked at Chakotay. "No, we were going to discuss that over lunch, if you'll excuse us." Icheb nodded and left with his nutritionally superior lunch.

"You didn't have to chase him off, Seven."

"We have a great deal to discuss."

"All right," Chakotay said, leaning on the alcove with one arm. "I have a proposition for you. I think you'll find it most efficient."

Seven's head cocked to the side. "All right?"

"What if we only have to make one plan instead of two," he began teasingly. "Arrange transport to one place –"

"You're attempting to have 'the talk' with me," Seven interrupted with a smile. "And you're doing it badly."

"You're right." He took her hand and weaved their fingers together. "I'd like us to stay together, Seven. I don't know if I want to stay in Starfleet or not, but I want to stay with you. Let's live somewhere together."

She raised an eyebrow. "Co-habitation?"

He nodded. "How far along the Doctor's social lessons is that one?" he kidded as he pulled their connected hands to his lips and kissed. He leaned his head closer to hers.

"I believe it is in the advanced course," she replied in a breathy whisper. Almost involuntarily, as their faces nuzzled, she began kissing him. "However, I am an excellent pupil."

"I can see that," he breathed against her face. "I can't wait to do the homework together."

* * *

In spite of the fight he and Janeway had had a few days earlier, Chakotay had proven himself true to his claim to "make her burden lighter." He had coordinated her meetings with the crew without complaint. Now it was his turn to meet with Janeway, and seeing him at the threshold to her cabin in sopping wet clothing with strands of his black and gray hair falling across his forehead, she wasn't quite sure how to begin.

"Thank you for arranging these meetings, Chakotay. It was only after you'd started that I realized you had no reason to follow my orders."

"The first officer is in charge of crew matters," he reminded her lightly.

"Of course," she conceded. She took a seat in a chair opposite him. "What do you want me to recommend for you, Chakotay? They're going to ask me about you. About why I made you the first officer, about how you handled the crew – especially the Starfleet crew. Whether or not you talked to me about regretting your decision to leave Starfleet in the first place. Is there anything special you want me to say?"

"I've been thinking about it for two weeks, and I'm still not entirely sure."

"What about Seven?"

Chakotay tugged on his earlobe. He knew he needed to confess that he and Seven had arrived at a very large decision together. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it sooner," he began.

"You didn't need to ask my permission," Janeway interrupted. "You and Seven are adults."

She thought he was apologizing for their relationship, he realized, not the revelation he was about to make. If she needed to discuss the very fact that he and Seven were dating, then there was no way he was going to drop the bomb of them living together. He tried to approach the situation tactfully. "Still, Seven has always been special to you, and, of course, neither of us would ever want to hurt you. Maybe you were right the other day when you said I was skulking around. Maybe I wasn't sure how you'd handle it, so I chose not to say anything. I'm sorry."

"I wish you would consider staying in Starfleet."

_Did you hear anything I just said?_ She was giving him a strange smile. If she wanted to change the subject, he'd play along. But staying in Starfleet? What was she thinking? "Aren't you being a little overly optimistic? There's no reason to think Starfleet will welcome me back – me or any of the other Maquis."

"What Maquis?"

He looked at her inquisitively. "There were no Maquis on Voyager?" He didn't comprehend.

"None," she reiterated, "and that is exactly what we are both going to say during the inquiry. It's the best way I can think of to protect our crew."

_Oh, _he suddenly understood,_ she's going to say that we became Starfleet officers once we joined her crew. No longer Maquis._

It was a sweet tactic, but it was also one that indicated she never fully understood them or their cause. Choosing to operate outside the law was a decision they'd made with heavy hearts, because they'd felt a need to serve a greater good. It didn't matter how many years had passed or what had happened to the other Maquis, or to the Cardassians. They still had that same sense of obligation to what was morally right. To claim not to be Maquis – it was denying everything they stood for.

_But she doesn't think of it that way. In her mind putting all of you in Starfleet uniforms is a way of protecting you._

Captain Janeway, he knew, valued her service to Starfleet more than anything else in the world. She thought Starfleet's mission and the doctrine upon which the Federation had been founded were sacred. To her way of thinking, claiming that they were not Maquis was a way of demonstrating how principled and sound she found them to be. It was a little misguided, but it was the best she could do. So he decided to go along with it. He nodded his head in agreement, and they lapsed into silence.

After a few moments she said quietly, "I'll miss having your counsel every day."

Chakotay smiled. "You'll be fine without me."

"Starfleet won't be fine without you."

"Starfleet gave me up a long time ago," he reminded her.

"I haven't given up on you."

"Kathryn, you just sit in here reading all day. I'd say you've given up on everything." He hadn't meant it to sound so brutal, but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back.

"Get out," she seethed. She reached deliberately for her book.

He sighed heavily as he walked out of her cabin.

Janeway threw the book in his direction as he left.

* * *

As if arguing with Chakotay and dealing with B'Elanna's pessimism weren't bad enough, Janeway still had to have a conversation with Seven of Nine before the long day would be over. The younger woman was standing in the middle of Janeway's cabin, hands clasped behind her back, and as soon as Janeway looked at her face, she knew she couldn't be upset. She cared deeply for Seven of Nine – yet she couldn't reconcile her conflicting feelings. Without meaning to, she was directing all her anger and frustration at Chakotay, maybe because Seven was younger and more inexperienced when it came to these kinds of situations.

"You once offered to show me your hometown in Indiana," Seven reminded her. "I would like to do that now that Voyager has returned."

Janeway smiled at what seemed like a highly unlikely excursion. "Seven, I'd be happy to show you all my favorite places on Earth – if you want to stay here."

"I would like your assistance finding a position," Seven said. "I would like to be useful."

Janeway was not unsympathetic. Seven had a big transition ahead of her, not only acclimating to a new environment in which she was much more of an outsider than she was on Voyager but also to life off a ship. Seven had only ever lived on ships, even before she was Borg. Life on a planet, in a stationary environment, was going to be difficult for her. She had imagined being the person to help Seven through that process – helping Seven rediscover her humanity had been one of the greatest joys of her life – but she knew unequivocally that this was no longer going to be the case. Seven would leave, with Chakotay; he would be the one to share the wonders of the world with her. And Janeway probably wouldn't talk to either of them for a long time.

"I'll help you," she heard herself promising. "You have nothing to worry about. I'll help you in any way I can."

* * *

Her conversation with Harry had gone so well that Janeway decided to try again with Seven and Chakotay. She was, after all, a mature adult. Their relationship didn't need to preempt her friendship with either of them. She was certain that she and Chakotay had merely had a misunderstanding earlier.

A few minutes after Harry left, she headed across the compound in the direction of Chakotay's cabin. She was planning what she would say in her mind, fully prepared to rely on her command mask to carry her through any potential awkwardness.

_I just thought the three of us should have a conversation together,_ she would say. She would smile at Seven and add, _It seems more efficient._

She would explain to Seven that she hadn't been totally forthcoming earlier. That Seven, as someone who had never been in a significant relationship before (or any relationship at all) didn't understand that she couldn't necessarily rely on Janeway as she once had. They could still visit Indiana together, but it was Chakotay who would lead Seven through the process of finding a place for herself in the world.

Then she would look at Chakotay and remind him that he'd left her cabin without telling her of any definite plan. She'd ask him if that was truly the case. She'd tell him that she wanted him to stay in Starfleet because he represented what she thought Starfleet should be – strong leaders with well-defined ethics – but that she didn't mean to pressure him. She'd say that their friendship wouldn't change if he left Starfleet. She'd ask him if he wanted to think about Seven's plans in conjunction with his own.

It was a good roadmap for a conversation, she decided as she approached his cabin. The lights were off, though, and she wondered if the hour had gotten later than she realized. But as she stepped closer to the open doorway, she heard the distinctive sound of a pleasured moan coming from inside.

In horror she raced back to her cabin.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2403**

"That is an awful story," Miral declared. She put a hand on Chakotay's shoulder. "I'm really sorry."

"Hey, kid," he said easily, "it didn't seem so awful at the time. Right, Kathryn?"

She gave a small shrug. "Oh, we made each other miserable for a few days, but I just thought it was the strain of coming home – the price we had to pay for it." She licked her lips. "And I wouldn't say Chakotay suffered too terribly. He ran off with a beautiful – and younger – woman."

"But you talked at some point to arrange testimony for the Doctor's hearing?" Andrew clarified.

Chakotay nodded. "We were all very cordial, and, of course, we weren't going to let our troubles get in the way of the hearing."

"For which I'm very grateful," the Doctor said with a smile.

"What happened at the party?" Miral wanted to know. "Why didn't anyone talk to you?"

* * *

**Earth, Paris, Place de la Concorde, Federation Council Reception, 2378**

The captain kept her promise to show Seven her hometown. Seven arrived in the early afternoon the day of the Federation Council's party, and the two spent a few hours at Gretchen Janeway's house eating caramel brownies (which Seven found distastefully full of sucrose). They also took a walk through the agricultural district, where the corn was quickly shooting up. At last, though, it was time to prepare for the party, and Seven transported to Belize, where she and Chakotay were again staying with his friend. Janeway earnestly enjoyed their visit, and she gave Seven a firm hug before sending her off.

Seven didn't seem quite as full of life as she had the last time Janeway had seen her, but Janeway assumed it was the strain of their reunion and anxiety about the very large party they were all about to attend – at which they'd be the centers of attention.

Unlike Seven Janeway was actually looking forward to a little pomp and circumstance, in spite of her aversion to the new dress uniform. There were several crew members she wanted to see again, and several families she wanted to meet. And, she would admit to no one but herself, she was looking forward to being patted on the back by the Federation Council.

She entered the reception hall feeling like ten bricks of latinum, and her high only grew as various dignitaries congratulated her on Voyager's successful return. She sought out her former crew, meeting parents and long-lost spouses, children who had grown by a meter since their parents' disappearance, and everyone greeted her with joy. There was no blame or worry, as there had been the last time she'd seen some of them on Mariana Two. Instead everyone seemed to be in a cheerful, if formal, mood. Janeway didn't even need Phoebe as her reinforcement.

But when she saw Chakotay and Seven, she was glad her sister was at her side. Seven looked gorgeous in a red dress, her hair flowing around her shoulders – and Chakotay didn't look all that bad himself. The two were holding hands in a corner, away from the rest of the crowd, and in spite of their good looks their faces bespoke some kind of tension.

* * *

"You made the trip from Kairos III all the way to Earth to stand in a corner all night?" Miral shook her head. "What's wrong with you?"

"Well, like Kathryn told you, Seven was a little uneasy about being welcomed as a hero," Chakotay explained. "I talked to a few people, like your mother, but I felt out of place. I wasn't sure I belonged there. And neither did Seven."

"I believe I can shed some light on that," the Doctor interrupted. They looked at him. "Chakotay, I have a confession of my own. Seven spoke to me at the party about your relationship. I'm sorry I never told you."

* * *

"Doctor," she greeted him with an affectionate smile. She planted a delicate kiss on his cheek. "It is good to see you."

"Likewise," he said with equal affection. "You look lovely tonight." She looked stunning, actually, but there was something in her eyes that told him he shouldn't make a big fuss. "I see life on Kairos III suits you."

"It does not," Seven replied quietly.

So quietly, in fact, that the Doctor had to ask for confirmation. "What did you say?"

"May I speak candidly?" Her eyes flitted around the room.

With some concern he took her elbow and steered her to a more secluded corner of the room. "What is it, Seven?"

"I believe I have made a mistake."

For a moment his holographic heart leapt. A mistake! She could leave Chakotay and return to Earth – to him. But she seemed genuinely distraught, and he immediately banished any thoughts about his own desires in the face of his friend's problems. "Tell me about it."

"I have discovered that I do not prefer life on a colony," she began in a low voice. "I found the solitude disquieting. I would prefer to be in a more populated environment. I frequently feel useless, as though I have very little to contribute to an agricultural society."

"Have you talked to Chakotay about this? Perhaps the two of you could relocate." She drew in a breath, and the Doctor could tell she was debating whether or not to tell him more. "Seven," he said as gently as possible, "is Chakotay part of the problem?"

She blinked rapidly a few times, not making eye contact with him. "Doctor, your previous feelings for me may make it difficult for us to continue this conversation."

They were current feelings, he wanted to correct her, but she was wrong about them interfering. He cared for Seven's well-being first and foremost, and he would advise her in any way that was necessary. He was a friend, not an opportunist.

"I'm listening, Seven."

"I am being called Annika now," she corrected.

"Oh?" he said with an almost imperceptible raise of the eyebrow.

"It was Chakotay's idea," she said, confirming his suspicions.

The Doctor, wisely, said nothing more on the subject. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"I do not believe we are in love, but Chakotay will not admit it. He treats me reverently and is quite considerate. He would not want to hurt my feelings by ending the relationship."

The Doctor had to marvel at how perceptive she had become. "Why do you think he's not in love with you?"

"We often fight because of miscommunication."

"Couples fight, Seven," he assured her, suddenly relieved that she was worried about something rather mundane. "Perhaps in our social lessons we should have practiced how to argue –"

"This is not the result of a shortcoming in your social lessons," she said curtly. "We lack harmony and an ability to understand each other."

The Doctor frowned. She appeared more confident in her understanding of humanity than he'd even seen her; he had to trust she was right in her assessment. "Seven, you can end the relationship any time you want to. You don't have to wait for Chakotay to do it. If you're not happy, you should talk to him. You can move back to Earth. Admiral Janeway was just telling me about a new project she's working on. Starfleet could use you as a consultant on Borg technology." He gave a small sigh. "You deserve to be happy."

He half-expected her to argue that happiness was irrelevant, but instead Seven nodded slowly. "Chakotay and I have both invested a great deal in this relationship, Doctor," she said with determination. "We have distanced ourselves from our friends in order to establish a household together. In my research of other couples, I have noted that periods of emotional highs are often followed by turbulence. Perhaps there is some value in trying to 'work it out.'"

He could tell it was her final word on the matter, so he just gave an artificial smile. "Of course. But call me any time you need to talk. Should we get back to the others? I haven't said hello to Naomi Wildman yet."

* * *

Admiral Janeway happened to bump into the Doctor at the bar an hour later. He looked broody, and his "date" – Reg Barclay – was nowhere in sight. "All right, Doctor," she declared as she accepted a glass of champagne from the bartender, "you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Her eyes followed the direction of his and landed squarely on Seven and Chakotay. "Are you still in love with Seven?" Janeway asked him candidly. He nodded. "I'm sorry, Doctor." She gave him a compassionate pat on the shoulder.

"I should ask you what's bothering you," he said pointedly.

"What are you talking about?" she scoffed, waving her glass of champagne. "I'm having a great time. I've spoken to about a hundred people tonight. Did you meet Harry's parents?"

"Admiral," he admonished.

She was overcompensating, she knew, so she opted not to say anything else. She turned so that her back was resting against the bar, and they surveyed the crowd for a few moments. "What happened to Reg?" she asked finally.

"It turns out that Reginald Barclay is a bit of a shrinking violet. He went home an hour ago."

"Reg? But his hologram was so –" She stopped. "That was the Ferengi, not him, right? Well, one more eccentric to add to the family, I suppose. Maybe your friendship will help bring him out of his shell. You did wonders for Seven."

That slip of the tongue catapulted them both back in silence. Five long minutes passed until Phoebe approached and asked with exhaustion, "Kate, can we go home now? I just spent the last twenty minutes listening to Admiral Hayes talk about his pet poodle." Janeway and the Doctor laughed lightly. "I can only take so much of this diplomacy stuff. It's hard work putting on a good face."

This time Janeway had to agree with her.

* * *

**Belize, Residence of Ricardo Altico**

"A-koo-chee-moya," he began quietly. "We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers. We are far from the sacred bones of our people. I ask on this night for the guidance of the one they call Kolopak. I ask for his wisdom. Speak to me, Father. Share your wisdom with me."

In a moment he was no longer sitting on the floor of the guest bedroom of a house in Belize. He was sitting in the dirt around a fire, and his father, with his matching tattoo, was sitting next to him. "You are not far from the sacred places of your grandfathers anymore, Chakotay," Kolopak corrected him. "You have traveled a great distance and have returned to the land of our people."

"Not exactly," Chakotay tried to correct. But it wasn't worth debating the finer points of tribal geography. "I'm only here for a short while, and then I'm going back to a different planet. I have a small cabin there. We grow our own food."

"It is good to live in communion with the land." Kolopak looked at him knowingly. "But only if it is what the heart desires. What's troubling you, my son?"

"There is a woman," he explained. "A very beautiful, intelligent, caring woman. I think she's unhappy with me, but I don't know how to make the situation right."

"Have you mistreated her?"

"No."

"Have you given her reason to be unhappy?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Then you have done nothing wrong. You must let her find her own way, just as you must find yours." Kolopak picked up a stick and stoked the fire. "And you should ask yourself why you are so quick to leave the ancestral lands."

Chakotay opened his mouth to respond when he felt a hand on his shoulder, jarring him out of his trance. He opened his eyes and laid down the smooth stone he was holding. He quickly folded the medicine bundle up. "I thought you were asleep."

"Are you all right?" Seven asked quietly. She knelt onto the carpet beside him and tenderly brushed a few locks of hair from his forehead. "You only use the akoonah when something is troubling you."

Chakotay looked into her vivid blue eyes and smiled. He reached for the hand that was stroking his cheek and kissed it. "No," he heard himself saying, "nothing's bothering me." They rose in tandem, him still holding her hand, and moved back to the bed. "Let's go to sleep. The transport ship leaves early in the morning, and there's an errand I want to run before we go."

As they made themselves comfortable under the covers, he heard Seven say, "I can't wait to get home."

"Me, too."

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"Nice place you've got here."

Janeway would have recognized his voice from a light-year away, but she certainly wasn't expecting to hear it in her new office the morning after they'd avoided each other at the Federation Council reception. It was turning into a pattern with them. "I should have known you'd show up sooner or later," she said with a lopsided smile.

Chakotay didn't return her smile but walked into the room with purpose. "I guess I could say that I came to ask you why we didn't talk to each other at the party last night," he said quietly, "but that's a conversation we've already had too many times."

Janeway looked carefully at him, certain now that their standoff wasn't about Seven anymore, and it wasn't about their missed connection. It was about how he'd never stand up to her. Chakotay had always been a wimp who backed down from anything that was too hard, claiming pacifism as an excuse. How quick he was to leave the Maquis – to pledge to her that he felt a sense of relief and happiness serving her, rather than freedom-fighting. And when they were stranded together, he'd tried to convince her to accept their fate, rather than trying to find a cure for their illness. At the time she'd thought it was because he wanted to be alone with her. That attraction was clouding his judgment. Now she understood: he wasn't a pacifist; he was a defeatist. He was exactly the kind of person to keel over for the Cardassians. Someone with a constitution that weak didn't deserve to be with the magnificent Seven of Nine.

She still loved him – she loved all of them. And if she had to, she'd change the laws of the universe again to save them, to bring them home early. Even if it meant they'd end up here. But she wondered if the other Admiral Janeway had budgeted for this cost.

Chakotay was sizing her up, wondering why she was glaring at him and trying to remember when it was that she had become so embittered. It wasn't the burden of command. She could use that as an excuse, but he knew that wasn't the truth. She loved being in command; it wasn't a burden to her – it was nourishment. Maybe it was the weight of one failed chance at happiness after another. After too many blows, anybody, even someone like Kathryn Janeway, who had once marveled at all the universe had to offer, was bound to turn cynical. But he didn't want to believe he'd pledged to serve at the side of someone for whom life seemed so unbearable. He'd done nothing to merit such punishment.

He could see now that the problem wasn't just post-homecoming. How many times had he invited her to do something with the crew on Voyager? They'd given her every possible chance to join them, to be part of the group, the family, to share her burdens with them, and maybe in turn to share their joys. She had almost always refused, without even considering the invitation. He knew now that it wasn't duty; it was a pathology. Kathryn Janeway wanted to be alone and miserable. She saw it as her lot in life.

Well, so be it. It didn't have to be his.

"I decided to bring you a present instead." He held up the padd he'd brought. "Since you've been reading so much lately, I thought you might like a new book."

"What is it?" she asked with curiosity.

"I know you like the Renaissance, so I brought you a biography of Elizabeth I."

"I like the _Italian_ Renaissance," she corrected, only to smack herself mentally for being so snide.

He must have thought she was being snide, too. "I thought maybe you could learn a lesson from history." He threw the padd carelessly in her direction, and luckily she caught it before it hit her. "I'm sure you'll end up as happy as she was."

He was gone from her office before she could respond.

* * *

"And the thing is," Janeway continued, "he was right. Voyager was my excuse for not getting close to anyone. I buried myself in my duties so I wouldn't have to face reality."

"Later that afternoon," Chakotay added, "Seven and I left Earth, and that was the last time Kathryn and I spoke for nearly three years. But it wasn't Kathryn's fault. If I'd really thought about what was happening, I would have realized that every time Seven and I had a disagreement, I just let her walk off and waited for it to be over. But I kept trying to force Kathryn to talk to me."

"You put all your energies into the wrong relationship," B'Elanna said bluntly.

"I guess so," Chakotay said, smiling at his friend's lack of tact. "But, you know, Seven and I thought we were really happy. And I just thought losing my friendship with Kathryn was an unavoidable part of the deal."

"That's a terrible story," Miral declared with sorrow.

"Oh, I disagree," Janeway said hastily. "A lot of other good came from it all. Harry got a promotion, your parents got new posts together, the Doctor had his independence, and before she died, Seven got to learn more about real life than I ever thought she would."

"It seems like you paid a pretty high price for everyone else's happiness," Miral argued.

Janeway smiled. Miral made it sound as if she had martyred herself. Although she had sacrificed a lot for her crew, they had given her much in return. She lived with few regrets. "It was a bargain."

They were silent for a moment, reflecting on what they'd learned and thinking about the directions their lives had taken. Libby winked at Harry and then began to clear the table with Reg's help. Tom put an arm around B'Elanna's chair, unconsciously leaning closer to her. Miral was more open than her father; she kissed Andrew's cheek and then wiped off the lipstick smudge. And Elina put a hand on the Doctor's arm, nodding and smiling at him.

"There's one other thing that has come from all of this," the Doctor announced. His face broke into a grin. "One of the advantages of independence is the ability to decide where I want to live – and with whom."

"Doc," Tom said with wide eyes, "you're not…?"

"Elina and I are getting married," he confirmed.

"Doc, congratulations!" Reg shouted, giving his friend a hug.

Harry followed suit. "Welcome to the club."

"Congratulations, Elina," Libby said warmly. "Welcome to the family."

Elina smiled back at her. "Thank you. It seems like an extraordinary group of people."

"Well," Andrew said, rising from his chair, "this was supposed to be breakfast, and it's almost 1400. We haven't even been home all weekend, and she has to report back to the Galileo tomorrow." Miral moved to join him.

"So you decided to do another tour on the Galileo, munchkin?" Tom asked.

"I really like my assignment." She grinned devilishly. "And there's an opening for an ops officer."

Andrew nodded in confirmation of this. "But I told her I wouldn't submit my name unless we could have separate quarters." To Elina he explained, "She's a pig."

Miral tugged on his shirtsleeve. "All right, Kim the Clean, let's get out of here."

"Wait a second," Reg called after them. "What about the anniversary holoprogram?"

"I totally forgot," Miral admitted.

Andrew shook his head. "Reg, after all these stories, the program just doesn't seem that exciting. No offense."

Reg pulled an isolinear chip from his pocket and thrust it into Miral's palm. As he closed her fingers around it, he entreated, "At least try it once."

Miral opened her hand to look at the chip and then smiled at him. "Okay, Reg," she pledged, "we'll try the program."

"You'll see," he predicted. "Once you start the story of Voyager, you'll be hooked."

"You'd know better than anyone," the Doctor teased him.

Harry stood up next. "We should probably be going, too," he decided. "I need to check in with the ship before we leave tomorrow."

The others took it as their cue to leave also, and they broke out into a few rounds of farewells. Then they left the farm, heading in different directions towards home.

* * *

After Miral and Andrew had transported to Lisbon, they sat side by side on the ground transport that would take them to their neighborhood. For a few minutes they were silent; it had been a long weekend, and they were tired and had much to absorb.

Then Andrew spoke. "A lot of revelations came out this weekend, huh? I can't believe some of the stories that they've been hiding for twenty-five years."

Miral nodded absently. "I guess they were all trying to protect each other from the truth." She pulled Andrew's hand into her lap, keeping it sandwiched between hers. "Maybe when you care about someone as much as they all do, you learn to make sacrifices for each other's happiness? And one sacrifice is keeping your mouth shut?"

"Let's promise each other not to do that," Andrew suggested. "No matter what, we'll tell each other the truth – even if it gets us in trouble. I don't want to be sitting around the kitchen table in twenty-five years and find out you've been hiding something from me."

As they rose from their seats to get off at the next stop, Miral winced. "Actually, Drew, I have a confession…"

**The End**


End file.
